
(x y 



if I : 
iiilf: 

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Illili:; 









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arianQHTallman 

Tent v., Chautauqua;' 
"JVeToArKaveT) Tourteen" 



W '^ 







Press of ths Jouksai, Company, 
1S93 



\ 



IGntereJ acconling to Act of Congress, in the year 1893, by the 

PROVIDENCE JOURNAL CO., 

la the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



PLEASANT PLAeES 



IK 



RriODE ISLAND, 



AND HOW TO REACH THEM. 



By ,MARIA:NrA M>Ti\LLMA]N^, 

AUTHOR OF -'TENT V., CHAUTAUQUA," "THE PAIRHAVEN FOURTEEN.' 



9^1^^ 



PEOVIDENCE: 

The Providence Journal Company, 

1S93. 



N- 



TO MY FRIEND ALICE, 

Whose companionship in many of these rambles has made their memory doubly 

pleasant. 



CONTENTS. 



PART l.-ALONG SHORE. 



NEWPORT. 

NARItAOANSBTT PIER AND POINT JUDITH. 
WATCH HHX,. 
BLOCK ISLAND. 
QUONOOONTAUG BEACH. 
CHARLERTOWN AND JIATUNUCK. 
CONANICUT PARIC AND JAMESTOW^ST. 
PRUDENCE PARK AND PRUDENCE ISLAND. 
BRISTOL FERRT. 



BRISTOL NECK AND MTTLE'S NARROWS. 
SAUNDEUSTOWN AND NARRAGANSETT 

FERRY. 
TIVERTON HEIGHTS AND STONE BRIDGE 

TILLAGE. , 

S.AICONNET POINT AND LITTLE COMPTON. 
PAT^TTJXET, OLD AND NEW. 
FIEIJyS POINT. 
NARRAGANSETT BAT, 



PART ll.-INLAND AND UPLAND. 



IN AND ABOUT PROVIDENCE. 

■RTEST GREENWICH, COVENTRY, EXETER 

AND BEACH POND. 
THE PAV^TUXET RIVER. 
CUMBERLAND HILL AND SNEACH POND. 
THROUGH THE NORTHERN TOVWSTSHIPS. 



DIAMOND HILL. 

QUTNSNICKET. 

FOSTER AND SCITUATB. 

IJNCOLN AND NORTH SMITHFDELD. 

BURRHX^TLIiB AND HERRING POND. 

TJ3.IE ROCK. 



INTRODUCTION. 



IN preparing this little book for a summer public, in quest of pleasant places 
to be found within our boundary lines, the writer is only too conscious how 
insuflBcient it is as a representative of even our own small State. It would 
be hard to find elsewhere on our coast an equally limited amount of ter- 
ritory in which are found so many phases of life, so great variety of scenery 
and so large a fund of legend and history as lie latent or discovered within 
our own borders. Aristocratic South County, with its wealth of legendary 
lore, traditions of slave days and Indian occapancy, the bleak hills and shores 
of Oharlestown where the last of the Narragansetts still abide; the craggy hills 
of Cumberland, breeze-swept and bracing of air as true mountain regions; the 
limestone crags and kilns of Lime Rock, sitting remotely on the Lincoln hills; 
the dreamy old town of Bristol, its quaint architecture and sleepy, green-arched 
streets like a bit out of a past century, and the teeming foreign factory villages 
of the Pawtuxet and Blackstone valleys; all these have their own peculiar 
life and atmosphere; and on the remote and desolate shores of Quonocontaug 
or the rocky point of sea-beaten Sakonnet are counterparts of the bleak Maine 
coast that dawn like a revelation on Rhode Islanders who know only the fa- 
miliar shores of our fair bay. 

By no means a complete or even comprehensive guide-book of the State is 
this volume of sketches to be considered, but merely as its name indicates, an 
index to a few of the "pleasant places" to which accident or design has led. 
No doubt many readers will aver, and justly, that they know within their own 
precincts, many spots fairer and more interesting than those pictured in 
these pages; but if one will but trouble himself to glance at the list of abiding 
places, small and great, in fair Rhode Island, he will realize that long years 
would' be required, in visiting and familiarizing one's self with all. Only those 
most typical and most picturesque which have come under the writer's notice 
have been selected, while the field of exploration is practically limitless. 

M. M. T. 



PART FIRST. 



Along Shore. 



NEWPORT. 



[Two hours from Providence by Continental Steamboat Co., fare 60 cents round trip, or by Old 
Colony Railroad.] 



IT is wliolly superfluous, at this late 
day, to attempt to say anytliing 
new concerning a watering place of 
not only national, but world- vade fame : 
it is sketclied again briefly here simply 
because a Rhode Island guidebook with- 
out Newport would be guite too like 
the play of Hamlet with Hamlet left out. 
Newport has had the experience, unique 
in sea-faring towns, of rising, decaying. 



Only a jumble of wharves anl warehouses, 
some green with moss and mouldering 
with age, a tangle of narrow and muddy 
streets with scant " elbow room" on the 
worn and funevem. sMewalIvS ; shabby 
old wooden houses edging as near the 
highway as possible, with old-fashioned 
door caps and fan lights, and a general 
look of discouragement and decay. These 
are what greet him, but let him take the 




and rising agaiu from the ashes of de- 
parted mercantile industry in a new and 
unparalleled splendor. It is this linMng 
of its old by-gone and forgotten life of 
manufactories and commerce mth its 
new one of wealth and fashion that gives 
Newport of to-day a double cliarm. To 
the stranger approaching the historic old 
town by water, tlie first sight of New- 
port proper is a sad blow. Where are 
the elegant villas, the magnificent drives, 
the citizens of wealth and fashion, of 
which he has so long and so often heard? 



EASTON POINT. 



cable ear waiting by the Post Office at 
the head of the dock, and be whisked up 
the hUl, past churches galore, and cross- 
ing Bellevue avenue with a transient, 
but bewildering glimpse of fairy land, 
past a few of the fine old mansions with 
ample, Enghsh-lilie grounds, and down 
a long incllae again eastward to famous 
Easton's beach and the sea. Here, 
about the ample and commodious new 
building erected there with its acces- 
sories of cafe, piazzas and multitudinous 
bath houses is always a vast and chang- 



10 



PLEASANT PLACES IN ItUODE ISLAND. 



Ing throng of patricians and plebeians 
batlilng or boliolding. At the noon hour, 
the fubliiomilile bathing time, resplendent 
are the equipages that grace the sand, 
awaiting my hidy's daily dip; while 
"wandering excursionists lunch and gsxze, 
and stroll on to the wilder and lonelier 
attractions of the second beach, on to 



r^ ,r^.^ 







AVIIEKE BERKELEY LTVTED. 

the left, or follow to the right the famous 
" Clilf walli," past Newport's most mag- 
nificent summer homes southward to 
Ochre Point. The second beach claims 
Newport's grandest shore sceneiy ; here 
lie those huge rent dill's dubbed respec- 
tively Paradise and Purgatory I'ocks ; 
though in point of beauty there seems 
very little to choose between them. 
Purgatory rock has, of course, the usiml 
legend of a famous leap by a mytliical 
hero across its yawning chasm, and ho 
who would undertake it must be indeed 
a strong-hearted athlete. There is fas- 
cination in lingering here, watching the 
booming surf and flying feathers of spray 
on hidden reefs far out at sea. Beyond 
lies Sachuest Point, the hanging rocks 
and the fair shore scenery beloved by 
Bishop Berkeley of old. Turning in the 
other direction and following the beaten 
path leading over the Clijl''', rising mo- 
mently higher from the ocean, the way 
grows fairer as one journeys, and as 
the velvety, well-kept grounds of the 
wealthy dwellers on this lovely coast, 
vie with each other in profusion of 
luxury, one has opportunity to see what 
gorgeous palatial abodes may rise in the 
name of cottages. Millionaires from all 
over the land have liere their summer 
homes, and gay junketings and days of 
mldsumnu'r madness pass here that have 



no counterpart elsewhere outside Oulda's 
novels. Still on to the southern point of 
llhode Island, otherwise Land's End, 
where the gray rocks drop in lessening 
detached rauks to the water's edge, 
brilliant in gold and brown of wave- 
washed rock weed and barnacle, the 
coast turns sharply westward, and liailey's 
beach, with the famed spouting rock, 
lies beyond. Visitors are plenty here 
after a wild southwester has been raging, 
for with a thunderous shock into the 
black caverns below, the wild swinging 
billows are driven with the force of the 
whole Atlantic at their backs, and up 
through the narrow rock tunnel they 
ascend and fly in a white fountain of 
spray forty feet in the sunny air. Again, 
one may listen and watch in vain, when 
old ocean is contrary, and wiU hear but 
a sullen guj-gling wash somewhere down 
in the black spaces below. On this 
south shore is the dreaded Bronton's 
reef, ofl' wliose inhospitable rocks has 
swung night and day since mariners mul- 
tiplied on these seas the stauucli light- 
ship, with its two signal lights faintly 
seen, rising and falling with the swell, 
away over at Narragansetl Pier by night. 
Bounding the point at Castle Hill— but 




NBWrORT'S OLDEST. 

one must have a carriage to come all this 
way at one trip— Conanicut Island lies 
across the harbor, with a white line 
always showing about the southern rocks 
where gray Beaver Tail light rises ; and all 
the way between, tlie water is crowded 
witli craft of every description, that make 
up the gayest harbor on the United States 



NEWPORT. 



11 



coast. Men-of-war, G-overnment cruisers, 
pleasure yachts, great and small, from the 
Idng of floating pleasure craft — down to 
the butterfly hits of catboats. Excursion 
steamers, water boats, launches for Goat 
Island and the Torpedo Station, the great 
Wickford and Jamestown ferryboats, the 
Block Island and Pier steamers, lumber 
and coal schooners, and farthest up north 
the training ship with her scores of erect 



Ungs." On the farthest of the two Lime 
Roclfs rises the square white lighthouse 
guarded by our heroine of Narragansett, 
Ida Lewis, now a middle aged woman. It 
is worth one's while, in visiting the G-ov- 
ernment station over on Goat Island- 
where the tiny steam launches take one 
lor a trtflmg sum— to stroll out to the long 
noi'thern breakwater there, and see the 
stranded collection of old and new buoys. 




THE CASESrO. 



and athletic young lads aboard— and be- 
tween these all the rowboats, flittiug 
with their uniformed crews. Even Clark 
Russell would have a difficult task before 
Mm in describing in detail the effect of 
this astonishingly lively port. The long 
gray frontage of Fort Adams juts out into 
the bay from the Island's southwest 
peninsula, and strives to meet that queer 
little round baby of a fort over on Conanl- 
cut's gray rocks— christened the "Dump- 



awaiting transplantation. Some are crusted 
thickly with eel-grass, sea-weed, shells and 
bai-nacles ; and the bell-buoys show here 
for the huge thtags they are— not at all 
the flat-topped rafts they seem, rocking on 
the water. 

Drives are of endless diversion In and 
about Newport, for one may traverse the 
island over and daily find something new 
to please and interest; the old island 
graveyards, the pleasant country homes 



12 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



Inland, the ancient histories of Portsmjutli 
and Middletown, as "well as tlie gay society 
life In the lieart of the town. J5elle\-ue 
avenue is the gn-and rallying place for the 
resplendent turnouts, tlie fine saddle 
horses and the gay t.illyhos that belong 
distinctively to Newport, and on a sunny 
afternoon they are out in full force. The 
many bazaars that line this Parisian-like 
avenue are dazzling "with their sho"wy 
fronts of exquisite and novel iujxuries, 
from millinery to hothouse exotics ; and 
the stranger "^\4io may not enter "within its 
gates may yet behold the Newport aris- 
tocracy entering and emerging from the 



homesteads hidden in the heart of -wooded 
parks, -with a quaint little porter's lodge 
by the gate, all gray stone, pointed 
latticed slits of "windows and i\'y-shrouded 
sides. There are the t"Wo fine hotels, the 
Ocean House and Aquidneck, the im- 
posing Rogers High School, and In pretty 
little Touro Park the Perry monument 
and, chief joy and treasure of Ne"wport, the 
mysterious old stone to"wer, once green 
"With riotous ivj, but now for its better 
preservation bare and gray, "with the un- 
broken lines of its many ai'ches, defying 
history and legend for its origin. Over 
its building historians and chroniclers 




W. K. ^'A^\DE1KBIL,T•S MARBLE PA1l4.CE. 



Casino here, which, attractive and beau- 
tiful as its interior is, compares but 
poorly in outer effect with Narragansett's 
and its gray springing arch by the ocean. 
Here in the white and gold ball-room as- 
semble the belles and beaux in the full 
bravery of their elaborate raiment; and 
matrons and mammas who have out- 
gi'cwn gauze, soLice themselves with dia- 
monds. It is a glittering pageant. August 
sees the tennis tournaments, the fox 
hunts— elaborate travesties on the old 
English sport— and the gayest gatherings, 
yet the social season lasts well into 
Autumn. Outside the fashionable pageant, 
there is much of interest in the heart of 
the to"wn— the fine old churches, the 
famous Redwood Library, the pleasant old 



have wrangled in vain ; and no one may 
ever surely know ■whether it is a monu- 
ment of the Vikings who have left scanty 
trace along our shores in an occasional 
carving or unaccountable skeleton, or 
only "What Benedict Arnold too briefly de- 
scribes of " my stone-built Avind mill. " 
Those of us poetically inchned "will prefer 
tlie version that the "skeleton in armor" 
"was obliging enough to give to Longfellow •: 

"So for my lady's bower 
Built I this lofty tower, 
"VNTiicb to this very hour 

Stjinds looking seaward." 

But of this and other historical spots 
in old Newport, guide books are full of 
legend and description, and to particular- 
ize farther "would be needless. 



NARRAQANSETT PIER. 



[TMrty-five miles from Providence. By rail, New York, Providence and Boston Kailroad to Kings- 
ton Narragansett Pier Railroad to Pier, gl.50 round trip. Or by small steamer from Newport, 75 cents 
round trip. Largest and best hotels, Gladstone, Kockingham, Mathewson and Berwick. Massasoit best 
of lower priced.] 



IN itself, Narragansett Pier is far from 
being sucla a show-place as Newport. 
Its attractions need time and famil- 
iarity to reveal, and it often happens 
that the one-day tourist departs without 
having seen any of these prime attrac- 
tions—the rocks, the Casino, the Hazard 
castle, Canonohet, the Ocean Road cot- 
tages or Point Judith— and hears away, 
therefore, a very disappointing impression 
of this far-famed watering place. With 
a competent guide and a comfortable car- 
riage, a gi-eat deal is to he seen in a 
single day, in the "off-hours," when it 
is not absolutely essential to he present 
at either the bathing beach or the Casino. 
One may turn northward, if he like, 
through the picturesque Tillages of Peace 
Dale, the home of the Hazards, and 
Wakefield, surrounded by the lionie of 
many weird, wUd legends : wandering up 
to the lovely MJanouna Lake near Wake- 
field, whei'e among two or three other 
charming summer cottages, Mr. H. S. 
Bloodgood's most delightful house stands 
enshrined among the trees— the scene of 
the old Indian legend of the ghost of 
Manouna, the remorseful mother who 
murdered lier babies in the " Crying 
Bog" across the way, and whose unap- 
peased shade nightly flits and wails along 
the darfe lake's surface. And there is 
the Hunnowill Hill down beneath the 
Tower Hill heights, a clustered rock 
hillock rising from the long salt marsli, 
where the old slave owner lashed his 
runaway slave to a tree, and left him 
naked tlU"ough the night at the mercy of 
the myriad mosqultos that have infested 
the marsh from years remote, tto find him 



stone dead in the morning. South County 
is fortunate in ha%lng bards to sing and 
chronicle lier many old legends, and be- 
tween Shepherd Tom, Miss Caroline Haz- 
ard and Miss Carpenter's graceful writ- 
ings there is little left untold, and the 
glamour of well-written verse lies over 
all this legendary land. 

The Pier is unique as a watering place 
on this account. Probably not another 




CASINO FIRE PLACE. 

favorite resort, in tlie whole coimtry 
round, lias so many nooks and byways 
quaint with story and legend, and though 
the tide of summer festiviby may wane 
low, there is always something between 
the uplands and the ocean to reward the 
irtroUer and the lingerer as long as they 
may choose to tariy, or over nine of 



14 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



tlie adjustable miles peculiar to tlie South 
County, by a ■winding ro;\d, the traveller 
may journey from the I'ior to the Row- 
land Robinson mansion and Gilbert Stuart 
birthplace, keeping the ocean in sight most 
of the time and -winding in and out 
among scenery tiiat, every Inch of the 
way, is either picturos(iue or historic, 
and mainly both. It is a devious way, 
if one trusts to oral instruction, but we 
haA'e lut ou a simpler direction. Cross 



the high green pasture.^ where sheep are 
grazing, where a long line of white runs 
far up into the tranciuil luirbor, lenping 
u1 the black ril)s of an old wreck that 
lies there yet among the sand and harsh 
sea grass ; Conanicut, with the long gray 
line of her ancient bluiTs along the bar- 
ren western shores, and away to the 
SDuth t'.eaver Tail lighthouse, looming a 
darlcer gray above the pale gray of sea 
fog, and wild surges forever leaping and. 




THE CASINO. 



the Pettaquamscut bridge northward, 
turn to the left, pass a white school- 
house numbered 2*2, and from thence— 
foUoAV the telegraph poles. They wiU 
lead Infallibly round all the corners to 
the very lane at the journey's end. But 
on the way, the old Rowland Robinson 
place, with quite as much, if not more, 
claim to distinction, is to be visited, 
and the prettiest part of the drive is on 
the hither side of it. Whale Rock light, 
dark red in the distance, is passed far 
out at sea. Bonnet Head, do%vn beyond 



stri^ing at Its base ; bej'oud all, the near, 
tranciuU, blue sea: and, farthest of all, 
t;ie wliite wings of the fleet that lie al- 
v;ays in fair Newport's anchorage. Along 
t!»e roadside, though dwelling houses be 
few and far between, there are the hun- 
dred and (me little no-account things 
that malce a country drive Interesting, 
and an enjoyable ^'isifc to this most la- 
teresting part of North Kingstown ought 
to be granted a whole day. 

South from the Pier to Point Judith Is, 
ho\^ ever, the favorite drive ; It is a short 



JSf ABB AG AN SETT PIEB. 



15 



six miles over a fine macadam Idgliway, 
■wltli the blue ocean always to the left, 
and passing the " rock cottages" -which are 
soon to claim supremacy as the nucleus 
of Narragansett social life. Mrs. Ores- 
son's lovely home, unpretending enough 
Avithout, with its gray halconies and 
twining green vines, but full to overflow- 
ing with al] manner of dainty luxm-ics 
within, Mr. Cook's, Mr. E. H. Sanford's, 
one of the most picturesciue, and the 
David Stevenson place, one of the newest 
and finest, and of which a detailed de- 
scription may not he out of place, as 
typical of a growing phase of luxurious 
summer life on our hay. 

No longer is this last imposing erection 
a nameless clhild, for it has been chilst- 



Point Judith, Advancing across the lawns 
and ascending to the family portals with 
joyous and easy confidence, in full faith 
that the butleu is ushering them Into the 
famous Casino ! It is small wonder, in- 
deed, nor would the delusion be at once 
dispelled, for the Casino hallway is a mere 
child beside this of the Suwanee vUla, 
High, massive and echoing, the polished 
floor gleams with oak tiles, covered here 
and there with rugs ; oaken chairs curi- 
ously carved and covered with embossed 
leather stand inA'ltingly here and 
there ; the great walls of tmted plasters 
have their bareness broken by engravings 
framed in shaded oak and hung in slant- 
ing lines with odd but picturesque effect. 
Everything in the great hall is oak, to 




SEA ^1EW OF SUWAKEE VTTTiA. 



ened " Suwanee Villa," in compliment to 
Mrs. Stevenson's maiden name. Coming 
upon the great gray mass, oval casements 
and Dutch doors screened with gold-brown 
shutters peeping out amid the massive 
battlements, huge granite steps leading 
up to the stone-pUlared balconies, and 
the ruddy gold and red of nasturtiums in 
rich flame between tlie gray stone and 
green turf, and the whole rising stately 
before the clear sweep of the blue Atlan- 
tic background— seeing it thus, the word 
"cottage" rises in one's mind as a most 
ridiculous misnomer, and prepares one to 
hear without astonishment the story that 
is getting to be a stale joke to the dwell- 
ers within. That of freoLuent sojourners 
in the land, faring north, perhaps, from 



the carved festoons that run about the 
frieze, and the broad stairways ; and the 
crowning glory is the huge mantel with 
sombre-twisted pillars, all of black oak, 
that stretches to the ceiling, and whose 
dark and sombre beauty is relieved only 
by a single tall, slender vase, a dash of 
blue In the centre. When the ruddy 
flames are leaping in the fireplace and 
tingetng the great, dark crossbeams of the 
room, then it is simply perfect. Between 
hallway and parlor is a triangular space 
Avith high arched alcove on the left, and 
here on its pedestal, like a heathen god on 
its throne, stands in sohtary state a huge 
Japanese vase, aU black, red and gold, and 
big enough to have sheltered that luckless 
young lover who made himself historical 



16 



PLEASANT PLACES IN IIIIOBE ISLAND. 



by sliutting himself Int^j an ancient clr ck- 
case. The parlor Is a long room loolcing 
soutln\ara, liuisLied in Tvlille wood and 
fiiruished with crimson damask, witli por- 
tieres of old gold and t'lectilc blue, In 
heavy hangings. A cushioned divan in 
gold brown plush, cosily tills the southern 
window reci'ss, piled high with pale blue 
salin cushions. The mantel mirror car- 
ries out the design of the elaborate carved 
wood frieze in similar festoons garlanded 
about its edges in putty work directly on 
Its face. Shaded oak frames, framing en- 
gravings and process rei)roductions, are 
hung everywhere through the house— the 
only exceptions being two bits of cU 
paintings reposing on the gold-brown man- 
tel draping li^ easil franits. Out of the 
drawing room opens the music room, like- 
wise with polished tiled floor, as are they 
all, and in shape a horseshoe, looking sea- 
ward. Rattan furniture reigns here, even 
to the music stool, upholstered with gay 
cretonne. Beyond, and opening from the 
hall, is the dining room, stately and spa- 
clous also, with its long polished table, 
ponderous leather chairs, and massive 
sideboards glittering with silver. Cabinets 
built In the walls give gleams of bright- 
ness from the many hued bits of dainty 
china, crystal and pottery. The seaw;ird- 
looking balcony- stretches before tlie din- 
ing room, tlie long glass doors stand open, 
and one dines h\ blissful conleinpladon 
of the dancing waves, the tiittijjg yachts, 
the flying breakers, and the blue and 
white of sea and .sli^' . The ghssy table is 
extinguished beneath a cloth only at 
broaktnst time ; a hall-dozen ex<iuisitely 
wrought napkins, elaborate with embrod- 
ered margin of leaves and flowers, embel- 
ll.sh it at the other meals, and electric 
lights heighten the gleam of silver, glass 
and napery. The great paniry lies just 
beyond, the lavatory across a smaller hall 
and down the steps, and the kitchens lie 
below in the basement. Farther north, 
with a smaller but no less delightful bil- 
cony of its own, whose arches are 
adorned with wooden pohits, Is the bil- 
liard room, with its high chairs ranged in 
solemn expectancy about the table. On 
the second room are the sleeping apart- 
ments, nine In aU, \vlth broader views 



still of lawn and rocks and ocean, and 
over the billiard room, where they may 
romp to their heart's content, Is the 
nursery of the half-dozen oUve branches^ 
the eldest but fourteen. 

Still higher are the servants' quarters, 
comprising the whole third floor, and as 
llie household stall numbers among Its 
retainers a cook, a kitchen maid, a nurse, 
a laundress, a chambermaid, a waiting 
maid, a coachnn.n, a butler and a few 
other modern conveniences, a whole floor 
is none too much. The house is fur- 
nished everywhere with exquisite har- 
mony, and with a massive, luxuriant sim- 
plicity that carries out to completed per- 
fection the promise of its stately exterior. 
Two sisters of Mr. Stevenson make the 
family ten, though Mr. Stevenson spends 
only Saturday and Sunday here. When 
one remembers that all this luxuriance 
and beauty is shut up in solitude here 
from October to June, as a mere super- 
fluity to be dispensed with till the sum- 
mer flitting, it sets one pondering upon 
the queer ways with which this world's 
goods seem to be divided ; but it is never- 
theless a small and sordid soul that can- 
not take an honest and unen%ious pleas- 
ure in the contemplation of the goods that 
have fallen to a lucky winner In life's 
lottery. 




DUNMERB. 

Farther away from the road, quite 
down on the edge of the rough and surf 
beaten rocks. Is the huge and imposing 
summer home "Dunmere," belonging to 
R.'G. Bun, and notable as the scenj3 of 
the most festive gatherings of a Pier sum- 
mer, when Mrs. Dun gives her August re- 
ception, and young men and fair maidens 
come from over seas at Newport to gi"ace 



NABBAGANSETT PIEB. 



17 



the occasion, and the great mansion is 
ablaze with light and gayety almost till 
the gray morning hreaks over the water. 
The very entrance to Dunmere, with its 
beautiful stone arch, cost the modest sum 
ol $10,000. Farther beyond, in solitary 
state by itself, away dD\vn Point Judith 
way, is the (lueer gray and white stone 
cottage of Edmund Davis, known as 
Scarborough. " Scarborough Beach" is ,a 
new-fangled title whicli meets with scorn 
and derision among genuine old South 
County folk. On this subject a hoary- 
headed and hatless haymaker, looldng 
much like a wild-eyed Father Time, held 
forth to us with righteous indignation as 
he pohited out the landscape from an ex- 



the angry southern sea, (the force of the 
breakers is spent on the sharp-tongued 
rocks of the hidden reefs that breed dis- 
aster. There is a constant seethe and 
foam like the Niagara rapids, but for all 
that, the ocean looks placid enough not to 
have sent high and dry up on the pebbly 
beach the two huge battered wrecks that 
have lain there now for years — one a 
framework open to the heavens and sea, 
half a mile down the coast, most afEected 
by artists and photographs, because more 
picturesque ; the other a huge four-masted 
schooner, looming up almost on her beam 
ends down on the shore directly before 
the fog signal house, now and then sadly 
diverting the sotmd to the misleading ol 




ENTRA2S^CE TO DTOMMEStB. 



alted eminence on Tower Hill. " There's 
Stinkin' Beach dOAvn j^ender," he an- 
nounced with indignant and wavering 
hand extended. " Folks hed t' go'n name 
It over ScarbryJ Stinkin' Beach was 
plenty good enough for us I " 

Past Scarborough, then, to go basely 
over to the modern majority, the road 
leads to Point Judith, name ol ill-omen to 
mariners, with its blocky white light- 
house, its fog signal building, with its two 
huge horns, the life saving station, whose 
crew have jocularly nailed aloft over their 
door the legend washed ashore from a 
wrecked schooner, "Harry A. Barry." 
Fragments of rocks strew all' this wild, 
stormy shore, and for a hall mEe out Into 



passing craft. But it is a fascination to 
merely linger in the old wreck's aged tim- 
bers, to feel the shock ol the sea's assault 
on her shattered Irame— to see the green 
lilting bUlows shatter to loam on the 
sharp-toothed reefs that make the dreaded 
point a terror to mariners, or to ventui^e 
out on the narrow and shaky fishing stand 
anchored to a rock that rises out in the 
boiling surf, hard by the well-lcnown " old 
man's lacs" that stares stolidly up to the 
summer slty, unblinking in the flerce bap- 
tism of the waves. 

From this sharp point the lonely shore 
stretches west, unbroken by settlements, 
away past Matunuck, Charlestown, 
Noyes's Beach and Quonocontaug till the 



18 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



Rhode Island shore ctmses -with Watch 
Hill, and Little Narragansett Bay pro- 
claims division from Long Island Sound. 

Altogether, the Point Judith drive is 
prime favorite, and It is customary to 
pause in reluming, before tlie Pier is 
quite reached, at "Sherry's," "Earls- 
court," or " Casa Sherri," for t)ie little Iso- 
lated spa out on the reclaimed marsh is 
IcnoTvn Indillerenlly by all three names. 
A half circle of seven gi'ay cottages, with 
the cafe In the centre, it is the seat of the 
most select dinner parlies and the gayest 
subscription balls of a Narragansett sea- 
son. Sherry's fame needs no herald, as a 
caterer, and the seven cottages are inva- 
riably filled by satisfied sojourners. In 
Its evening gala dress, -with the half cir- 
cle gay ■uith pendant Japanese L.nterns, 
the cafe and dance hall flower-entwined 
and green-festooned jardinieres with 
palms and ferns standing everywhere, the 
supper— Itself a triumph of art— served in 
the midst of a floral bower, with a per- 
fumed fountain of light musically dripping 
down a miniature ravine in a recess, and 
with the wild swirls and swells of the 
weird melodies played by the Royal Hun- 
garian Band— then, indeed, Is Sherry's a 
chief magnet of attraction to summer 
^ests. 

Between here and the Pier proper, in 
the heart of a dense jungle of woods, lies 
the queer freak of one of the Hazard fam- 
ily, known, as the Hazard Castle, and with 
its seven-storied tower a landmark for 
many leagues of ocean. Built in 1S42, 
lor a purpose never yet defined, by Jo- 
seph Peace Hazard, botli the tower and 
the queer little rambling house of twenty 
I'ooms at Its base have been practically 
neglected for many years ; but its latest 
change of hands has denied access to the 
tower and the grounds as well. It is al- 
most a pity, for a bird's eye view like that 
from its summit Is seldom granted a lover 
of nature. Its whole story is a very queer 
one, and almost equally queer is that of 
the great square stone house in the same 
grounds, a trifle farther down the road, 
known as the "Drald's Dream," and ad- 
Joining the Hazard graveyard with the 
memorial tablets to the memory of Its 
founder, surrounded by the four stone 



posts with hollow caps for drinldng foun- 
tains for the wild birds, and with the 
chiseled motto that reveals the kindliest 
side of the erratic builder's strange na- 
ture: 

"Whate'cr man's mode of faith, or creed, 
Who feeds the wandering bli-ds shall lilmself 
bo fed." 

No one has ever inhabited the Druid's 
Dream, either, but a care taker of the 
graveyard and the house, and within Its 
walls music and dancing and merry mak- 
ing generally, are sternly forbidden. 




HAZAED CASTLE. 

The social life at Narragansett, though 
a cosmopolitan resort, j-et is composied of 
on unvai-ying routine. One rises somewhere 
between eight and nine, breakfasts lei- 
surely, and seeks the friendly "roclcer" on 
the big hotel piazza, where a goodly com- 
munity of rocking neighbors read their 
letters, gossip, work on the elaborate sum- 
mer embroidery purchased for the pious 
purpose of astonishing and outshining the 
neighbor embroiderers, and contemplate 
the ocean and the passing yachts tUl it is 
time to join the lln.9 of march shoreward. 

The ocean was presumably the prime 
magnet which resolved Narragansett Into 
a unit. Its magnificent bathing beach, Its 
long line of cliffs, the mildness of its sea 
air, and the goodly scenery on every 
hand ; but the ocean would seem now but 
a mere excuse— a slighted object. Can it 



NABBAGANSETT PIEB. 



19 



be tlie vast, mid Atlantic that tosses its 
spray up into the very streets where 
jaunty vehicles go bowhng with stocky 
little steeds with tails more abbreviated 
than spaniels or fox terriers; dashing 
along in tandem profile, wliile jolly youths 
mounted aloft send the blast of the merry 
horn in wavering cadences along the echo- 
ing byways? One needs to look far out 
at sea to believe that this is indeed the 
same ocean that washes the wild Maine 
coast, or even the lonely shores and 
dunes of Quonocontaug, or the red rocks 
of Sakonnet. The real lover of sea and 
solitude must feel here as sadly bewil- 
dered as did the "princess of Thule" 
when she went with glad expectancy to 
see the ocean at Brighton. However, the 
Pier is cosmopolitan and indeptendent, and 
If one wants to dress quietly, go bathing 
in the afternoon, and fishing in the early 
morning, he is welcome to, with no worse 
criticism than that of oddity. 

An ephemeral summer population Is 
composed by the many merchants and 
venders of dainty and expensive novel- 
ties, whose windows brighten the heart of 
the place, and adorn Bencli Row. The 
cottagers are, in this as all else, the pay- 
ing customers and the majority. It is the 
cottagers who make up the wealth and 
the patronage of the many Narragansett 
bazaars, though many of the hotel peo- 
ple can count their millions. Still, It Is 
an open secret to those familiar with the 
Pier's denizens and their inner walks of 
life that two months at Narragansett 
Pier often means a lavish spread which is 
the reward of ten months pinching and 
scraping. These are the people at whom 
the rustic tourist stares and wonders, 
mistaking for true nobility. The real peo- 
ple are the quiet ones, and the pretenders 
or nouveaux i-iches are the snobs, almost 
without exception. No better instance 
can be shown of the quietly lavish ex- 
penditure of money than by a few samples 
of the articles that have gone into sum- 
mer homes as summer luxuries, or 
shipp-ed to Southern and Western cities ; 
for It Is the South and West that popu- 
late the Pier, as a Rhode Islander might 
easily guess by the almost foreign accent 
of a group at Casino, beach or tennis 



court. The caterers to luxurious tastes 
understood this fact; they know that rare 
Importations, revived antiques and ex- 
pensive bric-a-brac are not easily obtain- 
able either south or west of us, and they 
prepare a gilded market accordingly. Rare 
Persian rugs, on either side of the $100 
price, change hands readily for the 
assuagement of slippery hardwood floors; 
antique lamps, converted from old English 
wine coolers or tea urns, ranging from 
$50 to $75, may be found in dozens of the 
palatial "cottages," purchased from 
dealers here who make a specialty 'of 
genuine antiques ; one massive and quaint 
silver candelabrum in spiral coUs, valued 
at $75, is now for sale in such a bazaar, 
and the dealer says he has only to put it 
in the window to secure an immediate 
sale. Why ? Well, because connoisseurs are 
plenty here at the Pier who are looking 
out for such things, and a connoisseur 
knows that candelabra for four candles, 
genuine antiques, are the rarest things la 
the world to find. They run to two, five, 
any number but four. The dealer was 
right, and the event fulfilled his sanguine 
prophecy. Curios m silver and hand- 
wrought gold frames sell dozens here in 
a summer's course at prices ranging from 
$25 to $50 ; and one has only to look 
around at an especial dress occasion, 
private ball or Casino hop to see the deli- 
cate carved ivory fans, the combination 
of marabout and carved tortoise shell, or 
the delicate pink made from the wings of 
the Southern pink curlew— all bringtng $5 
easily, to see how quickly these perlsh- 
ishable trifies find a market. 

Elegant imported tables sell readily for 
from two to five hundred dollars , so It 
is not alone the hotel coffers that are 
enriched by the summer citizens. Cottage 
life, within the Pier limits, is often that 
of luxury, quiet and unpretending, per- 
haps, but involving an outlay of many 
thousand dollars for mere summer adorn- 
ing. Take, for an example, the pretty 
" Star Cottage" of Mrs. Butterfield of 
Washington. It is simple enough in ex- 
terior and not over-imposing within, but 
admirably adapted to summer entertain- 
ing. Her dances and five o'clock teas 
have long been vastly enjoyed by society 



20 



PLEASANT PLACES IN JiJIODE ISLAND. 



young folk, and her music room is pretty 
enough for special (inscription. It is ;i 
separate addition to the house, liaviiifi 
outer Dutch doors of its own, ^vith fan- 
lights above, beside the connecting door 
with the main house. It is a most 
charming room, about twentj'-tive feet 
square, -vvitli its corners running obtusely 
across, instead ol' at sharp right angles. 
A most dainty, radiant room it is, all 
white and gold, with its whUe lluted 
wails, simulating hangings of sillc. Tlio 
great lamp on the antiiiiie Dutch Inlaid 
table in the centre of the room has a 



small table, lor these Friday evening 
dances are to alternate with old-fashioned 
teas, between the same sensible linurs 
of eight and eleven. On an iron frame, a 
huge llgiire five, hangs tlie shining brass 
kettle, and the tea tray cover has ripe 
strawberries and leaves emliroidered 
around its edges. Overhead, on the Avhite 
ceiling, are genuine golden constellations, 
Ur.sa Major glistening triumphant wuli 
the pointers indicating the nortli star, 
just within the northern entrance. The 
whole effect of this charming music room 
is indescribably dainty and brillianl. The 




CANOXCHET. 



Shade of golden silk, with a frilled fall 
of white lace. The candles are in Avhite 
waxen clusters in the golden candelabra, 
and bits of tiny stands alternate ^vith 
easy chairs of white and gold. The pol- 
ished floor is oak, with an inlaid .Grecian 
border of oak alternating with mahogany. 
The broad, high windows are draped oddly 
and graceliiliy \\illi snowy mi.slin, ^\it'^ 
huge polka dots. Couches of old ros(\ 
crushed raspberry, old gold and electric 
blue plush, piled high with cushions of 
corresponding hue, stand about the room, 
and. an upright piano is at one end. In 
a cozy corner is a little tea service on a 



cottage is crowded with curious and Inter- 
esting brie a-brac. exquisite Dutch Inlaid 
furniture lingering about it, Bm-gimdy 
wine carriages of twisted wire from Ber- 
lin, and dining room ))aneis of rare 
French maple, like polished onyx, ex- 
humed from a haif-century"s storage In 
a Washington warehouse. 

Nothing, however, in the way of elabo- 
rate furnisliings could compare witli 
Caiioncliet in its palmy days, lordly 
Canonciiet, scarce a stone's throw from 
the beach, and stately and resp'.endent 
even now, with Its si.'ity-two rooms, com- 
prising bath rooms with every suite. In 



NABRAGANSETT PIER. 



21 



the days of Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague 
there was nothing In simple Rhode Island 
to compare with it, when in the paved 
dining room, the old style of Roman 
luxury was daily enacted, the fountain 
plashed In the centre of the tiled court, 
and guests dined to soft orchestral music. 
The grounds about the fine old place are 
beautiful as a diream, with the wooded 
vistas looking out on the flowing Petta- 
quamscutt, the distant Tower Hill heights 
and the spreading ocean, with Newport 
and Conanicut dreaming in the distant 
sunshine, and white surges always leaping 
about red Whale Rock light, and the 
ocean's murmur sounding always faintly 
in the tranquil air. Canonchet has had 
a romantic history from first to last, too 
long and too well known of old Provi- 
dence citizens to repeat here. 

Bathing hour is, of course, the chief 
daUy event ; at the magnificent, long, peb- 
bleless beach, with its booming surf, one 
may see at. high noon all Narragansett, 
either bathingior beholding, with the ex- 
ception alwayfe of the hundred little folk, 
to whom Narragansett is a true baby's 
paradise, and who, sheltered in white tent 
or gay marguee down on the sand, in 
the care of black or French bonne, dig 
and delve and make forts and mountains 
and, above all, pies, of the tempting sand 
that the roaring sea creeps up nightly to 
demolish and devour. The babies of the 
Pier are worth a chapter of their own, 
such lovable and picturesque and high- 
bred little mites are they. 

With the increasing August heat, the 
number of beach frequenters increases, 
and there daily gather on the sands a 
changing multitude of spectators to the 
great fancy dross carnival that takes place 
at high noon daily among the tumbling 
breakers. At first sight, coming suddenly 
upon hundreds of bobbing red caps among 
the seething J'oam, one imagines he has 
hit upon an assemblage of Turks, in fez 
and toga ; but as arms toss wUdly upwdlrd 
in a heaving wave, the picture grows to 
one of the weird scenes in the " Orlando 
Furioso," or— yes, like a rabble of French 
canaUle, shouting "Vive la guerre!" and 
"Down with the BastUe!" anything at 
all but kinsmen of that gay throng as- 



sembled high and dry under awnings and 
balconies. 

The bathing beach is the great leveler 
of distinctions. Bring the genial autocrat 
Holmes, that great stickler for aristocracy 
of birth and breeding, down here by the 
Pier bath, seat him in. one of our particu- 
larly hard chairs there for an hour or so, 
and let him muse on the strange trans- 
formations that a simple flannel costume 
and a douche of sea water combine to pro- 
duce, and bid him retract. 

"If two stranger queens," quoth Holmes, 
" shipwrecked and destitute, were cast 
ashore upon a desert rock, each would? in- 
stinctively address the other as ' Your 
Majesty.' " Oh, no, Mr. Holmes, they 
wouldn't, not if they were clad in baggy 
flannel bathing suits, and little, black taUs 
of tresses trickling down over their eyes. 
'J'Jiey would have sand in their feet and 
points in their elbows, and their graceful 
movements would be hampered by soggy 
garments, and they would say : " Here, 
you!" or. What ho, menial!" according to 
the several fashions of their countries. 
In the water is felt most strongly that fel- 
low-feeling wMch makes us wondrous 
kind, and blue-blooded patricians hobnob 
with unknown plebeians in a common 
struggle for egress from an encroaching 
wave. 

The general color effect in this ducking 
and bobbing multitude, is of navy blue, 
garnished with scarlet, these colors being 
largely predominant, but here and there 
is a variation, especially among the men, 
who affect the convict garb, and stride 
manfully seaward with no feminine shilly- 
shallyings among the seductive lesser 
waves, or recline in groups along the 
sand, suggestive of limitless " Dying Glad- 
iators," or, in their plethora of bared legs 
and arms " Laocoons-" Few of the very 
little folk venture in at all, the roar of 
the waves and the might of their motion 
being altogether too much for baby nerves. 
A few little pantalooned ducldings paddle 
in the shallow water near shore, or jump 
Lillputian breakers six inches high, cre- 
ated especially for their small selves, but 
most of them, setting timorously forth 
into the vasty deep with an attendant on 
either hand, speedily emerge with loud 



22 



PLEASANT PLACES IN BIIOBE ISLAND. 



lamentation, and scuttle up the beach like 
60 many baby crabs. 

It is gala time with the dogs, too, lit- 
tle and big, and the ■water-loving are kept 
busy retrieving among tlie breakers. Far 
out at sea, placidly bobbing up and down 
In lonely contentment, is to be seen the 
season through a fat old man in a scarlet 
Jersey. iie looks lilce notliing in the 
"world so much as a can buoy. 

Dripping skeletons and masquerading 
Falstalt's, Venuses and washerwomen, the 
hour at last up, go hastening up the beacli, 
and running the gauntl(>t of spectators 
with more haste than in tlieir downward 
progress, disappear among the bathing 
boxes. 




EAKLSCOURT TOWER. 

The ftirious surf of a sou'wester often 
■washes In from far away sea groves long 
ribbons of kelp, green, bronze and ma- 
roon, and it is a fantastic sight when the 
hundrMls of bathers duclt tliemselves in 
these slippery garlands, and sport lilce so 
many mermen and maidens in the flying 
surf. All sorts of aquatic exercises are 



indulged in at bathing hours ; even base 
ball is sometimes extemporized In the bil- 
lows ; and often there is a mad race of 
several lightly clad flying ^male figures 
through the crowd and far down the hard 
sliinin^ sand toward I'ettaquamscutt. The 
Neijtune batliing suit, beginning to be used 
extensively, does mucli toward the enjoy- 
ment of a bath, for it has a neat little 
liiddcn bladder that is tilled, and gives 
one double buoyancy. A pretty girl looks 
doubly pretty in her dark blue, modest 
bathing gown ; but now and then a portly 
old lady or liurrying Falstaff ventures 
down tlie sands with disastrous effect. 
The batJi is practically over at 1 o'clock, 
and the great procession moves on to the 
Casino, to while away the time before din- 
ner, when diives and " rocking" shall be 
in order. This plirase, a familiar one Ln 
the Pier vernacular, Jias no connection 
with chair, hammock or rowboat, but is 
derived directly froTn its nearest source, 
the rocks. How often does the solitary 
wanderer, springing from crag to crag of 
the broken bowlders, heaped along the 
eastern shore, spy a brilliant bit of color 
perched on tlie edge of the stony plateau 
he is approaching, and wonders if it be 
some strange tropical bird or blos.som, 
or unknown sea-growth stranded high 
above tide mark. Cautiously approach- 
ing, he sees this brilliant exotic slowly re- 
solve Itself into the top of a parasol, the 
apex of .a cocpiettisli little chapeau, or a 
flattering rampant bow of ribbon, beneath 
wliich, on a conveniently jutting ledge, is 
seated a rare and radiant maiden, and one 
of the much-prized, rarer and more radi- 
ant young men beside her. Shamefacedly 
does the solitary traveller beat a retreat, 
whose noise the booming breakers oblig- 
ingly cover as ihey tlmnder in, and leave 
the discovered to blissful ignorance. He 
scales to dizzy hei£lils, or descenrls to 
caverns perilously near the leaping bil- 
lows' onslaught, and thinks himself the 
first intruder. But ten to one if he do 
not find ere he turn, caught in some rock 
crevice, the fragment of a letter torn to 
bits in feminine fashion, a burnt match or 
two, a cigarette stub, a shriveled cluster 
of what were once royally pink pond lilies. 



N ABB AG AN SETT PIEB. 



23 



first favorite of Pier flowers, and these 
mementoes tell their o"wn tale. The rocks 
are indeed the best of Narragansett ; 
heaped in tumbled profusion for a mile 
or more south of the steamboat landing, 
they lie exposed to the full onslaught of 
the swinging Atlantic billows, and there 
is, after a day of wind and gale, a wild 
excitement in watching the lifting heads 
of the wild sea-horses, with white mane 
flying, dashing themselves to nothingness 
on the sharp ledges, or springing Mgh and 
solid against the massive sea- wall. Here 
is the much-painted and photographed In- 



sage around Beaver TaU, and across the 
surging seas at the bay's entrance, in the 
dancing and rocking little Caswell, as she 
parts the rushing waves with her glisten- 
ing bow. The pier frontage is then most 
picturesque and imposing, as one comes 
upon it after the flying plumes of spray 
that assault the red Whale Rock lighthouse 
are passed, and the steamer swings quietly 
in to the modest little pier. Half a mile 
of hotels present an almost solid rampart 
from the rocks that begin at Greene's 
Inn to the huge, gray arch of the Casino, 
whence come faiut strains of music across 




FIRE PLACE IN GREENE'S INN. 



dian rock, with the customary legend of 
the Indian, who leaped from its jutting 
point into the raging sea, rather than be 
captured. Sunset Rock looms highest, 
and from its eminence one can watch the 
reeling and staggering little "CasweU," 
swinging in or out from the one staunch 
pier that has been able to stand on Nar- 
ragansett shores, as she comes and goes 
from Newport. Day excursionists would 
doubtless repair here oftener if there were 
a quicker and more direct water route, but 
even as it is; the trip by steamer is a 
charming one, with pause of an hour or 
two at Newport, and then a rolling pas- 



the water. On one hand is the long, yel- 
low line of the beach sand, and the white 
line of the leaping breakers, and on the 
other the gray of the tumbled rocks and 
bowlders, battered by the booming Atlan- 
tic, and crowned by picturesque cottages 
and velvety lawns. It is a rough passage, 
to be sure, from Newport over in the reel- 
ing little vessel, but a most enjoyable one 
to ocean lovers. 

Most exciting is it to cross in one of 
the famous Newport fogs, when fog-horns 
are booming dismally everywhere, as the 
fog comes down and hides the sunlight. 
High and white against the distant Whale 



24 



PLEASANT PLACES IN liUODE ISLAND. 



Rock Light the invading surges spring and 
shatter, and far bcj'ond it, spectral ships 
sail out of a low-lying fog bank that 
stealtliUy i)iirsuos and swallows them up 
again. TJnTe is no Conanlcut, no New- 
port, though the day is lair and sunny- 
nothing but a wildly rocldng little steamer, 
a verilal)le maid of the mist, that epnies 
swinging sturdily out of the gray mystery, 
and bears passengers away to an uu]<nown 
borne, i'eople Avho know say that the pas- 
sage from Narragansett to Newport is 
worse than tlie famous English Cliaunel as 
a provoker of mal de raer. 

But ocean fogs are charming—-' sea 
turns,"' the good old Pine-tree State natives 
call tJiem. One cannot catch cold from 
them, try he ueA-er so hard ; they add a 
charming variety to the landscape, when 
they are considerate enough not to obliter- 
ate it entirely ; and they smell good enough 
to eat. 

Other pictures are many in the chang- 
ing atmosphere. Go down to the bathing 
beach, or even along the Ocean road 
before the hoti4 front in the dark, and 
■watch the wonderful electric Hash of white 
that shows transiently where the surf is 
breaking. That Is all one sees— those 
glancing lines of w^hite that ily far to right 
and left in the black night faster than the 
eye can follow : now by twos, now by 
threes, now singly. It is a spectacle that 
often holds the homeward-going slroUer a 
long, long time. I recall how one summe:- 
August came in at the Pier with a wild 
and rattUng hailstorm, and how July went 
out with a wUd and weird picture over 
the moonlit sea. Red as blood the round 
naoon rose, and went slipping and climb- 
ing through .sinister black bars and 
blotches. Over where Newport lay dream- 
ing, a gray hne over the dark waters, 
pink flashes winked monu'iitly in the aky , 
and showed, piled ominoxtsly against their 
transient gleam, gi-eat mountains of cloud 
bank, climbing silently higher. Back to 
the winking lightning Aviiiked the white 
electric lights of the Pier, tlie distant hght- 
Ship, the flash of Point Judith. Only red 
Whale Rock light and white Beaver Tail 
gazed steadfastly up to the steadfast eve- 
ning star above the barred moon, the pink 
lightning and the heaving black billows, 



tipped with gray in the strange light of 
tlie red-haloed moon. A black silhouette 
against the pink sky, far Conanlcut rose 
transiently in the lightning's flash, and 
then sank to dim graym'ss. To complete 
the weird picture a brass band on the 
Berwick's great lawn sat amid flaring 
torches, and the wUd sti-ains of music 
gathered an audience of slowly passing 
vehicles along the ocean highway that 
loomed black and huge against the gray 
water like a procession of camels along the 
moonlit desert. Perched all along the 
massive graystone walls sat groups of si- 




WEBCK OF THE MAGGIE SMTTH. 

lent listeners, for all the world lilce com- 
panies of penguins on the rocks, while the 
surf broke dismally down on the boulders. 
It was one of Narragansett's strangest 
pictures, to be long remembered. 

The social life of the Pier clusters of 
course iiround the Casino, its most pictur- 
esque and most attractive feature. All 
its comforts and conveniences are open to 
the summer subscriber for a trifling sum 
for the season, bat a single admission is 
fifty cents. The Casino comprises the 
offices, the ladles' reading room, the gen- 
tlemen's reading room, three suites of fur- 
nished ajiartmonts, two private dining 
rooms in the tower, the billiard room, 
the rotunda, the ball room, the large 
cafe and kitchens, while the many balco- 
nies loolc down on the A'clvet green of the 
tennis courts, where the August tourna- 
ments are held, and the pavt>d veranda on 
the ocean front is packed at the midday 
concerts by Lander's (Orchestra with a 
gos.'i])ing, idle, half-listening audience, 
robed all in their best, who leistire- 
ly listen, and lunch the whUe away 



NABBAGANSETT PIEB. 



25 



time tin dinner. Over the Ocean road 
is the Casino's most romantic quarter 
—the breezy upper promenade, stone-pil- 
lared, over the springing eastern arch, 
swept always liy ocean's breezes, and illu- 
minated at night by the red glow of in- 
candescent lights by which the voyager 
knows the Her for many miles away at 
sea. This charming shadowy spot is 
known as '"Cupid's Arch," and many 
memoi'ies of our gay summer girls go back 
to its sheltered nooks, where countless ices 
and lemonades and other liquid refresh- 
ments are consumed tete-a-tete, while tlie 
dance music sounds faintly from afar, and 
old ocean's orchestra thunders weirdly 
down below where the unseen rocks rise 
from the black water. Wednesday and 
Saturday are the dress occasions— th6 
Casino hop nights, besides the countless 
dunces held in hotel parlors : to some on- 
lookers, however, Thursday night, devoted 
to the little folk, is a far more interesting 
occasion. Clad in their best bibs and 
tuckers, little Miss Groldllocks and aU her 
Ilk— for small boys are sadly in the 
minority— hie to the Casino, where a bit of 
the orchestra, all their very own, awaits 
them, and plays " York" and all the other 
pet dances that the mites love, while the 
grown folk look down applaudingly from 



above. What matter is It that some of the 
wee tots don't "know the steps 1 " I defy a 
quaint little fairy, aU in gauzy white, with 
ilov/ing love locks, bits of shoulder knots, 
and silken half hose on her plump little 
legs, showing her rounded little limbs 
nearly to her dimpled knees— I defy her 
to look awkward if she try. And as the 
wee little feet twinkle so merrily from left 
to right, and tiptoe ro*ind and round with 
the abandon that only childhood knows, 
pink, white and blue bits of frocks 
mingling so mazingly in the merry meas- 
ures, it looks a veritable dance of the 
pixies, and the wild dance almost beckons 
one to 

"Else and go where they flit and fleet, 

The little red shoon on the twinkling feet." 

And the August carnival, usually under 
Herr Marwlg's direction, calls out the 
especial bloom and grace of the summer 
fraternity. 

Popular as Narragansett has been for 
long years, its best day should lie yet 
before it. Yearly more lands and nations 
are represented at its twenty great hotels, 
and yearly the list of celebrities tarrying 
on Its shores grows longer, while the 
cottage "season" lasts practically half the 
year. 



WATCH HILL. 



[Stonington Railroad to Westerly or Stonlngton, then by small steamer down Pawcatuck river or 
across Bay. Two hours from Providence. Watch Hill House, the best, ^4.00 per day. Seven others 
Plimpton House, the best low priced.] ' 



SEEN from the sea, from the deck of 
a distant vessel, Watch Hill does 
not look its best. The round bulk 
of that ancient lookout of the Niantic 
Indians which gives the place its name 
rises up and Intercepts the view of the 
rolling hills, hotel-crowned, the western 
shore, bazaar-lined, and little Narragan- 
sfett bay, craft-crowded, that help to make 
the prt)montory lively. And oxciu-sion- 
ists come home and report, as we often 
hear them, that Watch Kill is a bleak, 
lonely place, all sand and no trees, and 
it is strange what any one can want to 
go there for. 



boulder-sprinlded bluH. Here Is the great 
white square of the lighthouse, and the 
huge, gray granite tower, all surrounded 
by a high and massive sea wall that 
mocks the Atlantic rollers springing im- 
•potently on the tumbled stone below. 
On the seaward point are also the life- 
saving station, where keeper Nash has 
done so long and so brave service, a 
fisherman's shanty or two, and iish nets 
and lobster pots galore. Eastward from 
this wild promontory the yellow shore 
slants away six mUes tiU it runs out to 
a southern point again at Noyes Beach, 
there on to Quonocontaug witli its Asha- 




WATCH HELL FKOM PAWCATUCK BAY. 



Watch HUl Is, indeed, unique as a 
shore resort, both hi its natural features 
and in the unity of its social element, 
which has grown to be a power La the 
last eight years. To describe the first 
briefly to those unfamiliar with our ex- 
treme southwest possession, while it is to 
roughly shear the place of aU Its detailed 
beauty, may yet give a crude idea of its 
general character. 

A high, rolling and roclvy promontory 
runs straight southwest into the ocean, 
termmating, unlike most peninsulas, In a 
point which runs up yet higher Into a 



way Inhabitants, and still on to more 
familiar Tfut wilder waters at Point Judith, 
wuere our own bay begins. The whole 
eastern shore as far as the eye can reach 
from Watch Hill lies open to the onslaught 
of the swinging southern billows, straight 
from leagues of open ocean. Westward, 
the sea lies placidly enclosed in the long 
sickle of slender sand bar tliat curves 
out from the very hotel wharves, and, 
ceasuig on one side at Napatree Point, 
runs on still on Its upper length a mUe 
or two more till it terminates at length 
in Sandy Point, shiking beneath the water 



WATCH HILL. 



27 



and making a submarine foundation for 
myriads of waving eel-grasses. A re- 
markable ocean sickle is this, one In- 
terminable, undulating sand dune, thrown 
up by combined wmd and wave in long 
years, and bristling with harsh beach 
grass. 

Half way down it stands the old 
Peninsula House, once a hotel, and two 
years ago washed from its foundations 
In a high gale and tide. It has been 
carelessly set back on spiles, and is un- 
tenanted and wiadowless. Across the 
quiet stretch of water thus protected 
lies Stonington, five mUes distant, and the 
common terminus for most travellers 
Watch HIU bound, whether by way of 
New York, Providence or Boston. A lit- 
tle steamer plies constantly across, and 
it is a vastly pleasant half hour's sail, 
sMrtlng the long sickle, passing the mouth 
of the Pawcatuck liowiag from Westerly 
and the north, and avoiding the two 
treacherous reefs that show their ugly 
heads, yellow with rock weed, above the 
water at low tide. The two Hummocks, 
Island hillocks, rise distinctly across the 
sand bar, and the heights of Fisher's 
Island are gi-ay and blue in the far away 
sunshine. On its seaward end the sum- 
mer cottages are dimly outlined, and other 
vague shadows unrecognized here resolve 
themselves from the Watch Hill heights 
into Long Island, Gull and Block. 

The terminal wharf lies right at a 
hotel's foot, and as the whole place is 
compact, all the hotels and cottages are 
within very easy walking distance, though 
by an up and down route. Sunset Hill 
rises on the west shore, looldng straight 
across Little Narragansett, and still far- 
ther north is Money HUl, one of the many 
alleged hiding spots of Capt. Kidd's pro- 
fuse wealth, where more than one of the 
Watch HUl small boys annually excite 
themselves and vainly dig. All tlie way 
between here and the real Watch HUl 
looming from the southeast shore is wild, 
rolling land, the hillocks a tawny gi'ay- 
green like plush with its peculiar wii-y 
grass, sand-nourished. 

From any one of these heights, as soon 
a? the sun has sunk in a peculiar blaze 
of splendor that only Watch Hill knows. 



with the atmosphere all a golden mist, 
in which the distant islands swim, from 
far and near, east, west and south, glim- 
mer the golden lights from lighthouse 
towers, Fisher's Island, Montauk, Point 
Jtidith, Block Island, Watch JIUl, GuU 
Island, The Hummocks, Stonington, New 
London, Norwich, Mystic, and the roUing 
lightship, a goodly company indeed. In 
spite of all these warning beacons, and 
the melancholy beU buoy ringing lonely 
out beyond the southern sea wall, many a 
good ship comes to grief on these .shores, 
and bleaching skeletons and driftwood, lit- 
tle and big, strew all the pebbly sand of 
Bast Beach, where the breakers are al- 
ways roaring. 

From about the pyramidal rocks on 
Lookout Hill, and elsewhere in its region, 
have been gathered many Indian relics, 
suggestive of the days when King Nlni- 
gret and his dusliy tribes waged their Ire- 
guent combats with the encroaching Block 
Island red men from twenty miles out at 
sea. In the old Stonington courts annals 
are stUl preserved of the peninsula's old 
time changes of ownership. Its ancient 
boundary lines are very quaintly defined 
tn an old document dated 1683, the con- 
veyance deed of Nathaniel Lynde. 

"The persell or neck of land Commonly CaUed 
or known by the Several name or names of 
Pawcatuck alies Squamochuck neck, beginning at 
a stake stuck in the East side of a Creek one 
Eod west of the mouth thereof; the said Creek 
being between two small Necks of uppland, 
and Runs into a piece of salt Marsh, at the 
head of a Cove being on the mst side of 
pauckatuck River, which said stake la the North. 
Easterly Corner. And from thence in a straight 
Lyne South fifteen degrees East to Cross the said 
Neck three hundred and fifty eight Rod by mark 
trees and heaps of stones into the salt Water 
pond Called Mossachuge, which is the south Bast 
Corner, from thence bounded southerly by said 
pond and beach and whatch hill pond and beach 
as said ponds and beaches joynes unto the upp- 
land with whatch hill peyntt being the south 
west corner," 

and so on. 

The surf beach sinks with a sudden 
slant down out of sight among the break- 
ers, and in itself confirms the universal 
statement that bathing there is dangerous 
and the undertow strong. The, bathing 



28 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



beach, a long, safe and excellent one, is 
on tlie oUivr side ol" the slender neck, 
close to the sickle handle that runs "west. 
None of the iiictiirosiiue salt marshes that 
abound {generally by surf besiches are to 
be found near Watch Hill; from an artis- 
tic point of view this is perhaps to be 
• regretted, but it is amply atoned for by 
the absence of t'lo-^e custumaiy midsum- 
mer pe::?ls, mosquitos and Hies. There 
is unusual l;fe and vigor in the fresli 
breezes that sweep tliis high point, and 
in all the "hat snaps" Walch Hill inva- 
riably recoi-ds the lowest temperature, 
77 degrees being its most aspiring point 
when the mercuiy the same week in Pro- 
vidence was skipping recklessly abotit 
among the nineties. 

To these last two facts are largely due 
the phice's wonderful growth ; it was only 
ten years ago that the large Cincinnati 
syndlcae began to sell house lots into 
which the l(50-acre pui-chase was divided. 
Now the slopes are covered with hand- 
some and picturesque summer homes of 
wealthy New Yorkei's and Westerners— the 
north end being peopled amost wholly by 
Cincinnati guest-s. Among the finest cot- 
tages on the hill are the two Anderson 
places, to one of them belonging a small 
salt pond connecting with ,the sea, where 
pri^■ate bathing houses have been erected, 
and a water toboggan gives one a sudden 
douche bath, Miss Mabel Anderson, his 
daughter, died in the summer of '91 here ; 
she was but lightccn, and one of the es- 
pecial favorites among the many charm- 
ing girls, and her sudden death cast a 
gloom over the Avhole place. 

Mr. Anderson, Mr. .Jacob S. Burnet, Mr. 
Lyneas Norton and Mr. Walter S. .Tones 
are among the prime movers in the 
summer colony's rtowHi, gentlemen knoAvji 
as among the most influential of Cincin- 
nati's citizens. With these powerful 
leaders, a congenial element soon fol- 
lowed, prominent New Yorkers who were 
that happy combination of moneyed and 
modest pe pie also erected cottages, and 
to-day it would be dillicult to find any- 
where a summmer colfiny representing the 
wealth and social prestige of AVatch Hill, 
with eqiKil unpretentiousness. The young 
girls dress with perfect simplicity in dainty 



gingham and outing flannels, rather tlian 
the over-elaborate raiment at Newport 
and the Pier. It is true that in our re- 
cent stay there more diamonds and 
other precious stones decked the hands ol 
the fair dames than have blazed forth on 
us elsewhere in the season's tarrying, but 
they were worn wihere they should be— at 
high tea and tlie evening germans. 

Ctov. Howard and liis nephew, William 
C. Hastings, of New York, were the first 
to build here ; the firet cottage a modest 
brown one, stands beside the bowling 
alley. Mr. Hastings's own cottage is one 
of the most perfect seaside homes imagin- 
able, a real cottage, not over imx)oslng, 
with its every room finished tliroughout 
—floors, walls and ceiliirgs— in carefully 
selected hard yine, without a knot. In va- 
ilous tints in the different rooms, paneled 
and decorated ceilings, the hall walls 
finished in beveled squares, the dining 
loom in diagonal panels, and the arch 
between the parlors elaliorately carved. 
With the floors profusely strewn with 
rugs, the gleam t.i bright china, ancient 
and modern, from sideboards and cabi- 
nets, the glow of nasturtiums, pansles 
and lilies from vases and fireplaces, and 
the whole effect softened and made fairy-i 
like by tall lamps with huge tinted shades 
and sort cliairs and couehes in\4ting re- 
pose, it is a most restful summer home. 
Jfr. Hastings is chief organizer of the Im- 
provement Society formed three years 
ago, to which all the cottagei-s belong, and 
which is doing good work in a quiet way. 
Some elaborate entertainment for rais- 
•ng additional funds Is agitated in the 
near future. Mr. Hastings is what might 
be called the "business manager" of the 
very remarkable Watch Hill Chapel. Re- 
markable it is in this Avay, that it is a 
union chapel, thoroughly non-sectarian, 
and yet crowded to the utmost capacity 
of its 400 seats each Sunday ; also that 
not only do Protestants worship here, but 
there is an 8 o'clock morning mass lor 
the Catholic element among the servants, 
and an evening ser\lce In the vestry for 
the colored ijeople. Moreover, the pretty 
little building, built in 1877 at a cost of 
s}!10,000, was paid for entirely before the 
shavings had been swept away, and the 



WATCH HILL. 



29 



organ, Tvortli nearly $1000, was sub- 
scribed for and its purcliase guaranteed 
■within three days. So, as one sits of a 
Sunday within its quiet precincts he 
realizes the sincerity of the golden mot- 
toes gleaming on its walls : " The church 
is many as the waves, but one as the 
sea," and "In essentials unity, In non- 
essentials liberty, in all things charity." 
Clergymen are engaged for the summer 
serviceis early in spring and come on from 
New York to fill the pulpit, and it is a 
source of pride to the summer fraternity 
that the shining lights of the pulpit in- 
variably otter tribute to the superior in- 
telligence of Watch HUl congregations. 
The weekly collection quite defrays these 
rather heavy expenses. 

It will be seen from this alone that 
the Watch HUl cottagers are harmonious. 
Cottage life is quiet here, the special 
diversions being relegated wholly to the 
hotels. Some brilliant germans have been 
given, and there is the usual fuU dress 
Saturday hop at the two leading hotels, 
the Watch Hill and the Ocean House. 
Eemarkable fact No. 2, at many of the 
Saturday germans the men far outnumber 
the ladles. Think' of that, dwellers in 
the " catch" resorts where seven women 
lay hold of the skirts of one man I 

Concerts, juggluig feats, small diver- 
sions of aU kinds, spring up here and 
there at a minute's notice, and last the 
season through. The noon bath Is apt 
to be long drawn out, so tempting are 
the waters, and so large the numbers, 
and as fishing is fine, and little steamers 
put In here daily from Westerly, Stoning- 
ton, New London, Norwich, and frequently 
Block Island, a life on the ocean wave 
becomes almost a literal fact. Some es- 
pecially pretty little catboats are to let 
in the harbor. Along the road that skirts 
the still water edge, dozens of little mush 
room bazaars, with Westerly proprietors, 
have sprung up, from tintype rooms to 
ice cream parlors where, though we can 
personally testify to the cream's "virtues, 
it is frozen in layers like milk in winter 
and searved with a pewter spoon I There 
are merrygoromids, flying horses pro- 
pelled by a real calico horse, and one 
shore dinner restaurant. No new large 



hotels have been added, but Coluinbia 
Hall, a pale yeUow building of pleasing 
design, stands by the west shore. Mr. 
Hill now has oversight of the Plimpton, 
Narragansett and Bay View; the others 
are the Atlantic, the great wliite Larkin, 
and the rivals Watch HUl and Ocean. 
Beautifully decolrated as Is the Ocean 
House's interior, the Watch HIU is and 
has been first favorite among the eight 
great houses ; it is admirably arranged, 
and its table d'hote unexceptionable. 

The leading hotels are crowded this 
month, and not only hotel proprietors, 
but more uupreiudict^d cottagers aver this 
to be a rapidly growing and Increasingly 
successl'iU resort. The summer popula- 
tion of the point Is from 1500 to 2000. 
What must this contrast seem to the 
tJilrty-six winter residents, fisherman only 
on the bleak and deserted coast 1 

Always tlie wind blows freely over the 
airy heights, always there are the bathing 
beach, the row boats, sail boats and 
steamers to patronize, there are fishing 
and crabbing parties, and walks and 
drives Innumerable. Noyes Beach and 
Brightman's Pond, not far east, are worth 
a longer drive than they require to view. 
Then there is the Life Saving Station to 
Arisif.. whose keeper gets more calls In 
one day of summer than in all his winter 
service. Mr. Nash, the present keeper, 
has been at this station eleven years ; 
and in the six years that he has been in 
direct charge, he has assisted at forty- 
five wrecks— seven in one season. It was 
but four years ago that the melancholy 
wreck bleaching on the eastern sands was 
a staunch vessel, that, bewUdered in night 
and storm, struck the rocks with a crash 
that sent her canting sidewlse over. 
The crew— 'It Is a volunteer crew for the 
four months from April to September, 
picked from native fishermen and saUors 
—trundled out their great car of over a 
ton's weight, which, doM-n on the beac]i 
abreast the vessel, bears the gun that 
fires the projectiles carrying the life-line. 
A row of these long shot hangs on the 
station waUs. They weigh eighteen pounds 
each, and it seems hardly possible that 
they are thrown 300 yards. But they 
were fired, one by one, at this vessel. 



30 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHOL>E ISLAND. 



and owing to the darlmess and the gale, 
caught or went through the rigging, and 
It was only by accident that one of the 
crew, groping along lift, felt the lifeline. 
By the app;iratus vblch this car has, an 
endless line Is formed between ■wreck 
and shore, and tlio passengers, enclosed 
In a framework of rope to prevent their 
being wasliefl awny by the might of a 
strangling breaker, are slid ashore. 
This particular vessel was cm ted so that 
the line to shore had a 20-foot descent, 
and Mr. Nash said " when a man got 
started he went right along." It Is a 
rather odd thing tliat in all these 45 
wrecivs, whore life-lines, life-boats and 
Itfe-cars have all been In use, not a man 
of the (nght wlio make out tlie winter 
complement has ever been Injured. It 
Is a lonely life they lead here : the point 
is deserted, the bay frozen over, and thf^y 
cross on the Ice to Westerly for sup- 
plies. They hire a coolc, and — should 
not the Government be ashamed of itself 
for Its stinginess ?-^hese brave fellows 
have to pay for thdr food and cooking 
out of a $50 pay monthly 1 There Is a 
patrol who must nightly traverse the 
beach through storm and gale, on the 
lookout; and whether there are actual 
wrecks or no, tlie entire force has to 
go through the wjhole beach and launch- 
ing drill fifty times in its eight months 
service. Mr. Nash says that thnugii he 
has called the life-car (the queer-looking, 
air-tight construction that dangles now 
from the celling) several times Into ser- 
vice, he has never chanced to bring In 
women or children In It. The men res- 
cued have bwn the working crews of 
vessels. Marryatt's code is the signal 
service In use here, but a lengthy de- 
scription of it Involves too much space 
for the present article. 

We noticed the life-preservers— much 
more simnle and pliable and less cumber- 
some theiy appeared than those ordinarily 
furnished on pleasure steamers ; they are 
for the use of the llfe-sa\ing crew. Over 
at the Montauk station on the Long 
Island sh.ore, they have passed all these 
years without a single wreck, where Mr. 
Nash has witnessed forty-five — fortune de 
la guerre. 



Mr. Nash said the ladles who visit 
there sometimes aslc him xqtj queer 
questions ; I am couA-lnced he was only 
prevented by gallantry from saying fool- 
ish, for queer does not begin with an 
f. The favorite Inquiry seems to be con- 
cerning the number of wrecks liP expects 
to have tlils year. Let us hope, for 
their sake and that of the gallant fel- 
lows who go to their rescue, that there 
wUl be none; and also that Govern- 
ment will wax munificent and compensate 
them better for their perilous calling. 

Personally, the feature of Watch Hill 
most pleasing to us was the number of 
delightful old ladies we met, real, genu- 
ine old ladles, who had gro^vn sweetly 
and placidly old without a flsht with des- 
tiny, snowy of hair and cap, sweet oi 
face and charming of mien. 

Some of the woll-lniown sojourners at 
cottage and hotel are Mr. Page of the 
Massachusetts Insane Asylum, who has 
a stately summer house here, far up to 
the north ; Mr. Collins of New York in 
the red, vine-draped cottage by the 
chapel ; Judge Flnckle of Canada ; George 
T. Blackstock an'l family of the Pncillc 
Railroad; D. M. Wells, Speaker of ParlLa- 
ment; Lieut. Gov. Hale of Springfield; 
Maj. S. Bradford and J. H. Wesson's 
family ; James L. Morgan, Sr., and Jr., 
Morris J. Black and family, ISlrs. Asa W. 
Tenney, William Clark of Newark; Mrs. 
Dr. Seelye and the Eastliampton Dr. 
Seelye, J. C. McMwUen of Chicago; Hon. 
William Brigham, Dr. Vauderpoel, J. M. 
Belden, Mrs. Frank Hitchcock, Mr. and 
Mrs. Herbert N. Fenner of Provld-r^nce ; 
Silas F. Miller, President of the Penden- 
nis Club; William P. Anderson, the Sec- 
retary of the American Legation in 1-on-i 
don ; G. Eichmond Parsons, Henry TU- 
den and family, H. F. Richards apd S. 
M. Knowles of Providence. 

A full list of names well known would 
be an over long one. Manj' of the cot- 
tagers dine at the hotels. Supidies 
come mainly from Westerly and Stonlng- 
ton, and the growth of this summer re-" 
sort, so little known among Providence 
people, promises to be greater In the 
next eight years than In the past— though. 
It has had a Watch HiU House since 1840. 



BLOCK ISLAND. 



[By excvusion steamer Mount Hope in summer, or Danielson in other seasons, direct from Provi- 
dence, or by steamer to Newport, and Danielson thence to Block Island, four hours sail. Ocean View 
Hotel largest and best. Block Island House one of the best of the smaller.] 



A WIDE line of sparkling green— tlie 
ocean ; a narrow line of foaming 
•wMte— the breakers ; a level line of 
yellow-wMte— the sandy shore, and an un- 
dulating line of dark green, flecked with 
the rectangular shining grey of house tops 
—the hills ; above aU the hazy blue of sky. 
All told, that is Block Island from the 
ocean, as It lifts Its head above the waters 
to greet the voyagers sailing southward. 
But what Block Island is to Its lamUlars 
and friends— that Is not so speedUy told. 
A place of many hotels, a charming sea- 
side resting place, it strikes the casual 
traveller glancing along shore as the 
steamer swings into the dock; but the 
real Hfe of the island, the essence of the 
quaint old place, and the heart of its 
many histories, is to be gotten at only by 
long and repeated wanderings among its 
rolling Inland hills. 

All among and between the hotels are 
wild fields and pasture lands, and the con- 
venient cross-cuts that Intersect each 
other at every turn lead through back 
yards and farm yards, whose gates and 
turnstiles are ready to swing open at a 
touch. Ask a direction to any objective 
point visible in the distance and your 
answer will be : " Oh, go any way, across 
lots," and setting confidingly forth the 
tourist is never balked by a "No 
thoroughfare." This accommodating state 
of things Is due largely to the islanders' 
close relationship ; literally sisters, cousins 
and aunts are the women folk. Even the 
hotel proprietors are evolved mostly from 
quondam fishermen, so, as a hotel clerk 
expressed It, they "fight for custom all 
summer, and shake hands over it in the 
fall. " 



Among the early settlers who crossed 
here from Long Island and Massachusetts 
two centuries ago, when Block Island was 
" Manlsses" and Its only Inhabitants In- 
dians, there must have been a few fisher- 
men drifted south with a favoring wind 
from Nova Scotia ; for every now and then 
one encounters on this island just such a 
group of the genuine " bronzed and beard- 
ed" as artists love to paint and poets to 
picture. Broad faces, honest blue eyes, 
high cheek bones, a fringe of beard 
from ear to ear, and a general weather- 
beaten air, • characterize them as they 
tramp sturdily over the hiUs, and a group 
of them among the lobster pots or the 
boats or the seines makes assurance 
doubly sure. 

But where do the women of the island 
keep themselves ? A lady assured us the 
other day in somewhat Cooperish phrase 
that In all her stay there she had not yet 
seen a "female native," and on reflection 
we found that we had not, either. 

It Is the men who come to the doors of 
their lonely, scattered houses among the 
bills to answer question's of strangers ; the 
men who do the marketing. But the 
island is a religious spot, and the time to 
catch them is a Sunday at "meetin'." 
There are three Baptist churches between 
their Dan and Beersheba, the North and 
South Lights, a persuasion unanimously 
adopted by the Islanders, and a peculiarly 
appropriate one. 

They baptize not indolently In ponds, 
though every hUl has its hollow and every 
hoUow has its lakelet of greater or less 
size— usually the latter. No, they take 
converts down to the rolling Atlantic, 
where there Is " much water ; " and amid 



32 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



the plaintive melody of ancleut hymns 
and the roar of ocean confer their rites. 

Not long ago an Episcopal Church, 
newly built on the eastern blulfs by the 
efforts of the summer guests, mysteriously 
took lire aiul burned to tlie ground, leav- 
ing but the one sect dominant. Somewhat 
intolerant in their virtue are these Block 
Islanders, advocating the fiery as well as 
the watery baptism 1 but a new " High 
Church" stands now lutact upon the shore, 
and vengeance seems to have been rele- 
gated to the higher powers. 

When Italy was ringing with fhe tales 
and marvels of the new world, three cen- 
turies ago, the ventui'esome Verrazzano", 
sighting and christening our ocean island, 
went home and told the folks it was a 
" triangular island well covered with 
trees." Alas for the ravages of time! 
scarcely a dozen trees can one couut at 
a time, look where he may. Tiiey have 
gone the way of all firewood long ago, 
and when they were finally consumed the 
people fell to digging peat, of which there 
was abundance in the hundred swampy 
warm hollows. 

But now. through the many vessels 
which put in at this very poor apology 
lor a harbor, coal and wood are suppUed 
at prices wMch assume their proper di- 
mensions only when averaged in with the 
house rents. 

FiVen the island itself, buffeted by 
wind and ocean at north, south, east and 
west, is no longer what it was. Yearly 
the high boundary line of bluffs retreats 
inward, and yearly the malicious frost 
spirits pierce the overhanging banks with 
seam and crack, and send gi-eat masses, 
tons in weight, crasliing down the clayey 
sides to be swept remorselessly into sea. 
The great salt pond tliat monopolizes half 
the northern territory of the island, and 
leaves only a small strip of shore between 
It and the sea on west and east, was 
once a land-locked anchorage for small 
vessels approaching It by a natural west- 
ern breach, and also a profitable breeding 
place for fish and oysters. 

But that fickle builder, the sea, broke 
in with barriers of rock and sand and 
filled the opening — how thoroughly and 
successfully people did not know till they 



went to dig it out again and found it was 
a work of two years. 

It is now comjjleted, to everybody's 
joy, and the tides again rise and fall there 
with their wholesome cleansing ru.sh. 

The bathing beach, too, wonderfully 
smootli and pebble-free, is the work of the 
sea in the great 1815 gales. Before that 
it was merely land protected by shelter- 
ing sand hiJIs, which the sea leaped and 
leveled. 

The North Light, too, has been thrice 
rebuilt, for its predecessors were built un- 
wisely upon shifting sand. But far bacl^l 
from wear and tear of ocean the green 
hills lie far inland in billowy waves. Bea- 
con Hill, the highest landnuirk, conspicu- 
ous far out at sea, and abandoned from 
its original use, when the lurid glare of 
a bui'uing tar barrel warned the settlers 
of incursions by sea, it appears now only 
an old shell of a building devoted to re- 
freshments and a field glass, through 
which one may view, if he will, four 
States. But local characteristics are not 
Aasible by its medium, and the four States 
are as many blue blobs along the horizon. 

The North Light, out on the sandy 
peninsula, Avliei'e quicl<sands aboimd, is 
an ultima Thule to which brief sojourn- 
ers seldom penetrate. It is a long drive 
from almost any starting point, and not 
especially interesting when one gets there. 
Mr. Ball, the twenty years keeper there, 
has now been superseded by the former 
Whale Kock keeper. 

Voyagers to Block Isdand for one day's 
(jxcursion only do not get much more 
from it than the sail, the dinner, and an 
impression of the general contour of the 
east shore and the wild, undulating 
background. Nevertheless, 3000 a week 
is a low average for such excursionists. 
Block Island is the one place accessible 
to those who have but a day to spare 
where one gets so far out Into old ocean 
as to lose sight wholly of land save the 
shadowy blue island line for which he is 
steering. One ieols that for the time he 
has shaken off the world, its dust, noise 
and cares, and it would not surprise him 
if he landed on a new planet. Herein, 
despite one's liability to mal de mer, lies 
the constant charm of the ocean sail. It 



BLOCK ISLAND. 



33 



Is a pity, liowever, not to speud at least 
one night on the island. One can return 
via Newport the next morning and be in 
town 'in time for dinner, and meanwhile 
see something of the real island beside 
the ordinary watering place that clusters 
round the east harbor. But if one has 
but a day here, it behooves him to speed 
through his meal, and engage a carriage, 
for the thousand rolling hiUocks of which 
the Island is composed are trying to the 
muscles of an " offener, " as strangers 
from the main are called by the oiLd folk. 

Let the charioteer have his own way 
and he and his horse will set o£f by in- 
stinct for the South Light, a structure 
that gets more visits than even Point Ju- 
dith, the terminus of the favorite Pier 
drive. 

It is a pleasant ride down to the South 
light, up and down over the hills and 
across the fields, where a small boy, rising 
out of the ground, appears to open a big 
gate and look for baksheesh. Thence the 
road winds along the top of Mohegan 
Bluffs, an average height of 150 feet 
straight above the foaming sea. Stones 
and water and Mgh-flying spray have 
wrought fantastic pinnacles and head- 
lands all down, the bluffs, that one would 
surely say were solid rock; but the whole 
great bluff is one vast clay bank. Half 
way down, the sheer side a spring house 
stands, which would be the right thing at 
the right time were it attainable otherwise 
than by a swift sUde and a slow scramble. 
The Ughthouse is am imposing edifice, 
joined to a pretty cottage, both cottage 
and octagonal tower of dark red brick. 
And If it chances to be visiting hoiur— 
which It will be if one is not over-early 
or late— some one of the three families 
whom the cottage harbors leads the way 
up the three flights of winding stairs and 
up to the "crystal palace"— the glistening, 
wonderful thing that a first order light 
always is, handled so lovingly by keepers 
and not to be touched by other fingers. 
It is a very marvellous thing to stand in- 
side it, with the prismatic rainbow lines 
aU about one, and a dazzling shimmer 
and Bhlne, but alas, it is something ex- 
ceedingly hot, too. This light p opcr, of 
five wicks In. concentric circles, bums a 
3 



half gallon of oil hourly. The light itself, 
with its paraphernalia, cost $10,000. 
Outside on the platform one may get as 
fine a view of land and ocean as heart 
can wish. Far to the southeast are the 
smacks of the Gloucester fishing fleet, 
and everywhere is ocean, except for one 
mtle blue Une off tn the northwest; that 
is the Rhode Island shore. In the white- 
washed building near the water's edge are 
the two engines that supply breath for 
the fog horns ; a middle-sized voice for 
middle-sized fogs, and a deep, deep voice 
for deep, deep fogs. It seemed at first 
Uke a case of big hole for the cat and a 
little hole for the kitten, a la Sir Isaac; 
but the attendant said it would not do to 
keep the heavy one sounding all the time, 
and when we recalled its dismal, booming 
tone we thought so too. 

Of course, being a first-order Ught, thi3 
is tadeed one of the wonders of our coast. 




BLUFP AlsT) SOUTH LIGHT. 

and its dazzling barrel of prisms Is worth 
gettuig Inside of. But If visitors could 
see the air of weary resignation with 
which the keepers plod up stairs after 
their expectant and enthusiastic guests, 
and hear their mechanical replies to the 
same old questions, they would either be 
more considerate in their calls, or make 
their douceurs larger. At this day It 
would probably be Impossible to hazard 
within the lighthouse walls a remark on 
the subject which would strike the 
keeper's ear with an air of originality. 
Unless one cares very much to enter, let 
him stroll Instead to the verge of the 
Mohegan cliffs that make the southern 
bulwark more wonderful than any work 
of man, and see the distant white Unes 



34 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



of breakers crawling down on the scant 
beach 175 feet below. With jutting, .ser- 
rated edges overlapping each other, as 
one gets this grand series of blults in 
profile, it seems almost impossible that 
they are made only of crumbling clay, 
constantly changing in outline ; they louk 
as enduring ;is old ocean itself. Away 
down below the passing sails look like 
flitting white moths out at play, and even 
the billows of the Atlantic lose their 
contour, and the sea lies like one great 
silver plain, crossed by strange wavering 
lines and letters that wind and tide 
fantastically trace, meaningless to mor- 
tals. Strewn all along tliis southern 
shore are smooth round stones, great and 
small, and not long ago vessels pausing 
here took away thousands of pa^'ing 
stones or similar design, but the islanders 
at length protested, fearmg for the per- 
manence of the shore itself in the ab- 
sence of its best pi'^utection, and the 
stones stay. Inch by inch the whole 
Island, " beaten by bUlows and swept by 
breeze," is wearing away, and perhaps 
when shining Vega in the constellation 
of the lyre becomes the new pole star, 
Block Island will have ceased to be. 

On the top of the Mohegan bluffs is this 
summer a bit of a red cottage, occupied 
by Mr. Hyde of Norwich, and supported 
on either hand by a supplementai-y tent, 
inhabited by friends of the Vaill cottage 
folic. From the south bluffs it is a short 
drive westward to the VaUl cottages, of 
which even the islanders Icnow little, and 
the little they know turns ouii to be en- 
tirely untrue. Various papers have de- 
scribed these cottages as being the sani- 
tarium of Miss Abbie E. Vaill, a well- 
known New York physician, and details 
even of her treatment and care of the in- 
valids have been" published. In fact, 
there is not an invalid among the num- 
ber who make up the isolated southern 
colony, although the manner of its in- 
ception was peculiar. It was eight years 
ago that Miss Vaill, herself then an in- 
valid, came to Block Island in search of 
health and quiet. The first she found, 
the latter, as she summered at hotels, 
she naturally did not. Impressed wltli 
the wUdness, the grandeur and quiet of 



the cUlf land, where the cottages now 
stand, she purcha.sed a tract of some 
twenty-five acres, had erected a small 
red cottage for her own occupancy, and 
induced a few congenial friends to build 
also on her land. When the time for 
till ting came, the friends lost heart, de- 
clared tliey never should be able to keep 
an establishment on this wUd island, 
and begged Miss VaUl herself to estab- 
lish the chief cuisine. This she did, 
brought on a force of efficient servants, 
and from that time on the VaUl cottages 
were a pronounced success^ From New 
York, Connecticut and from Florida, the 
patrons and friends crowded the little 
cottages, and this year a large new build- 
ing has been found necessary, fitted 
cosily with sleeping rooms and a great 
centi-al dance hall, where festivities of 
all kinds come off. The one dining hall 
is annexed to Miss Vaill's own cottage, 
and she and her sister are chief managers. 
A class of society gathers here wholly un- 
like that even of the best hotels ; musi- 
cales, charades, amateur theatricals come 
off constantly with much eclat. Supplies 
come down from Providence, and the 
ocean and a thriving garden help out, 
largely with fresh fish and vegetables. 
Carriages cross often from the harbor, 
though excursionists never find their way 
here, and but two Pro^'idence families 
are among the guests— those of Edwin 
Barrows and Gov. Taft. Others are Rev. 
31. K. Schermerhorn, Dr. S. C. Logan, Mrs. 
McAllister, Mrs. William Thomson and 
Miss Elinora Bird, Prof. Johnson of Ann 
Arbor, Mr. Lee Gushing, Mrs. Wilbur of 
Washington, Prof. Beebe of Yale, Rev. 
Chauncey Brewster, and a long hst of 
others, several Norwich people among 
them, and most of these lawyers, it would 
appear. It is a very unique and imex- 
pected phase of life 'at Block Island, vastly 
independent and thoroughly comfortable. 
So far from practicing in her capacity" of 
M. D., Miss Vaill sends even the ailing 
ones of her own family over to Dr. 
Brewer, as she is pleasantly and fully oc- 
cupied with other duties. Vale the sani- 
tarium 1 

The afternoon Is long enough, after 
passing the bluffs, for a further ride to 



BLOCK ISLAND. 



35 



Beacon Hill, the Island's highest eminence, 
and a view of lour States through the 
glass in the little structure that caps it. 
The road lies past the ancient harbor wind- 
mill with its queer round cap and gigantic 
arms, over to the West Side Lile Saving 
Station and the desolate flat shore, up to 
the great salt pond that spreads over half 
the Island's northern land, and. makes 
picturesque sand-dune bordered marshes. 
Within reach, too, is the old island ceme- 
tery, with epitaphs so solemn that they 
become funny. Off in the soutliwest, too, 
is the neglected corner where are the 
seven graves of passengers on the ill- 
lated Palatine, wrecked here la 1750, and 
giving rise not only to the lire ship 
legend, but to the sale of enough relics to 
credulous summer guests to compare 
favorably with the somewhat overcrowded 
cai'go of heirlooms from the Mayflower. 
Ever smce the burning of the old stranded 
Palatlae has the ghost of a lire ship lent 
interest to these waters, appearing fit- 
fully and spasmodically about the island 
and in the Sound, Only last summer the 
phantasm was witnessed by a large and 
Interested audience on the Rhode Island 
coast, flickering and vanisliing. These 
many appearances caniiot be wholly vis- 
ionary, and now and then scientists In- 
terest themselves in the phenomenon and 
explain It by the inflammable gas theory ; 
but there is many an old island native 
who still puts credence in the fire ship. 
The graves, at least, are genuine facts. 

Nowhere on our coast is there a spot 
where so many hotels cluster in so small 
a space as around Block Island's bit of 
harbor, the metropolis of the Island. Be- 
hold the list from greatest to least : Ocean 
View, Spring, Manisses, Hygeia, Highland, 
New Adrian, Pequot, Surf Coj;tage, Woon- 
socket, Connecticut, National, Eureka, 
Nai-ragansett, Sea Side, Windsor, South 
Cliff, Block Island, Central, Union, Mitch- 
ell, Rose, Norwich, Bellevue, Springfield, 
Fern, Fair View and Ocean. When these 
houses are full, as in a prosperous sea- 
son, the summer population amounts to 
some 3000, while the day excursionists 
swell the number at the dinner table. 

Queer contrasts are in these summer 
hotels, from the great btrown leader of 



them all, the Ocean View, with its beauti- 
ful arched dining hall radiant with elec- 
tric Ughts, gay with hanging baskets of 
toUage, and its three or four hundred 
guests served by college boys combining 
business with pleasure in their summer 
vacation— from this to the bits of houses 
on the hillside, presided over by island na- 
tives, with waiters from their own house- 
hold band, and a sort of nautical flavor 
In the air. The small and cheap hotels 
down by the landing are as a rule fre- 
quented by rather third-rate people, but 
one often finds very pleasant sojourners 
in the quiet, breezy houses upon the hill. 
Capt. Conley, the well-known skipper of 
the Danlelson. Is at the helm of the cosey 
little Block Island House, farthest up of 
all, and one expects to hear "four bells" 
struck for supper and find plum-duil for 
dessert. It is the pleasantest of all the 
small houses. Often the Ocean View as 
well as smaller and less popular houses. Is 
obliged to resort to cot beds in extempor- 
ized sleeping rooms. By crowding, the 
hotel wUl lodge 487— their highest num- 
ber. The gay season's close comes com- 
paratively early here, but there are .al- 
ways many to finger lor further study of 
the queer Island life after the crowds have 
gone, and marvel at the glory of the close 
cropped hills and hollows in their count- 
less hues of autumn's painting, and watch 
the raving sui'f as it batters down atom 
by atom the foundations of the isolated 
ocean Island. 

The Spring House has a neat little pa- 
vilion over its two springs of iron and 
sulphur, dipped, up by an attendant Avlth 
accessories lilghly suggestive of Saratoga. 
These are the only waters used at the 
house, but even the most strenuous dls- 
llkers of mineral waters could have noth- 
ing but enjoyment of the very mild sul- 
phur spring. At the Ocean View a pa- 
vilion now stands at the head of the bluff 
above the dock for the use of the hotel 
guests, and no more satisfactory improve- 
ment could have been made. Otherwise, 
things are not greatly altered, though the 
conservative islanders are slowly rousing 
to their guests' demands for repaired 
docks, better roads, sidewalks at the har- 
bor, a Sunday boat, an electiic light sys- 



36 



PLEASANT PLACES IN ERODE ISLAND. 



tem, a Casino, and an ordinance regulat- 
ing carriage fares. None of these de- 
mands Is iinroasonablo. and all are ob- 
vious. Mid Ocean, the paper created I^y 
the presence of the ephemeral summer 
population, is the medium of much agita- 
tion on the QLuestion, and probably an- 
other summer ■will see an Improvement 
Society an accomplished fact. There is 
certainly weiiUh enough to support it. 

Few summer cottages appear on the 
Island ; It is a hotel colony -wholly. The 
homes of the natives are mainly plain lit- 
tle •whitewashed cottages, though now and 
then one sees a more Imposing one, like 
Noah Dodge's, or the pleasant old Sands 
farm, located In a rare group of trees 
down by the goodly-sized Sands pond. A 
dozen or so pretty cottages nestle dowTi 
by the harbor, but they are boarding 
houses In the summer and not fair repre- 
sentatives. 

Weeks of research would not wear out 
the Island's resources. There Is the North 
Light to visit, and there seems something 
of the supernatural in that, too ; for a liv- 
ery man told us that there wasn't a 
driver on the island but would rather go 
anywhere than to the North Light. And 
why ? because you keep going and going, 
and never get there. For his part, he 
wanted ¥20 to go to the North Light and 
back, he did. Even the Island itself is 
highly elastic In character; sometimes It 
Is six miles long, sometimes seven and a 
half, and sometimes nine, as one may see 
for himself by inquiring of diiferent na- 
tives. It may be the state of the tide is 
answerable for this phenomenon ; these 
ocean mysteries are beyond us. 

Block Island's mineral springs are well 
patronized every summer; the spring of 
iron and the spring of sulphur that never 
mingle because the sulphur overtops the 
iron. A small boy politely luuided us 
glasses as we passed, and we said jocular- 
ly, "What is that little engine for close 
by? to pump gas Into your mineral 
spring?" 

" Naw I" said the small boy, in much 
disdain. "It's to take the water up to 
the Spring House." 

The small boy moreover gave us much 
useful Information, and presently, struck 



by a brilliant thought, said : " Want to see 
the rams? We've got two rains down 
here." Alw.ays Interested In live stock, 
and hearing the distant bleat of sheep on 
the hills, we said we should. The small 
boy and a smaller sister, skipping joy- 
ously beforOj led the way down a very 
muddy hollow, and paused before two 
small wooden structuies. With the pug- 
nacious character of rams well in mind, 
we peered cautiously In, but there was 
only a big Iron knob and two pipes 
tlirough which the Avater was gurgling and 
thumping. Politely the small boy ex- 
plained, and attentively we listened, not 
imderstandlng In the least; but whether 
it was ours or the small boy's fault, we 
know not. 

In the hollow between the rams and the 
sea the way was green with peppery 
watercress, nourished by medicinal waters. 
We drank copious drauglits of the iron 
spring, and it was not till we were turning 
away that we espied a sign whereby visit- 
ors were requested not to carry away 
water with them. But It was too late 
then. 

Visitors are not out in great numbers In 
July, any more than In other places, but 
for all that the hotel keepers anticipate a 
rush In August. The lovers of fishing 
are early on the field, however, and the 
morning breeze bears away many a vessel 
In search of the lucMess swordfish, or cod, 
mackerel and blue fish. Fun Ls plenty 
about Block Island, and In the frenzy of 
the decorative mania which has so long 
prevailed ladies buy the sword of the 
fish, tie It with ribbons and hang it on 
their walls— whether gilded or not tradi- 
tion saith not ; but It seems to me a deco- 
rated fish sword would look sweet In gilt. 

The summer boarders do not have it 
all their own way on this fair Island. At 
a majority of the hotels the table hours 
read : ^ " Breakfast at 7, dinner at 12, 
supper at C." 

They want to get their work done up, 
they say, and the boardei-s may come to 
their nieals or go without, just as they 
please. They are mild, but firm, and 7 
o'clock sees the guests seated at the break- 
fast table ; but vast is the grumbUng. 
And when the languid Pier people are 



BLOCK ISLAND. 



S7 



]nst sitting down to their rolls and 
cofEee tlie Block Islanders: are juMantly 
forth at sea. Early hours and ocean 
breezes work wonders with Invalids, and 
many a long list of testimonials have 
hotel keepers proudly to exhibit. Auto- 
graphs ol many of our great men adorn 
the hotel registers, and aU, from the 
smallest to the greatest of the thirty that 
are known as hotels, are filled tfco over- 
flowing before the season's close. 

Over the whole island a breeze is al- 
ways blowing, and it is a pity some of 
the big botels were not set further up 
the hills to catch the cool air on theii- 
summits. There are the usual diversions 
of summer hotel life through the season . 
base ball, tennis, dances and musical en- 
tertainments ; but a life on the ocean 
wave is the one preferred of aU, and the 
stay-at-homes take their daily bath and 
roam the hUls and hear the breakers thun- 
der at the foot of the bluffs and see the 
midday commotion of excursionists land- 
ing and exploring. But the "day labor- 
ers" seldom wander from shore, and the 
old sojourners feel that they have the 
real Block island all to themselves. Per- 
haps the very prettiest thing of all Block 
Island views is the sight of the fishing 
smaclis coming ha at dusk for a night's 
anchorage. One by one, like a troop of 
sUvery butterflies, tired A\ith flitting, the 
cloud of soft, sUver-gray things come 
stealing In across the darkening waters 
and gently nestle In the shelter of the 
long breakwater, while stUl another and 
another follow quietly from far out at sea, 
the masts tipped with the Lingering gold 
of sunset. So gently the eye hardly knows 
when their motion ceases, they come to 
rest, and one by one a cluster of shining 
stars dawns in Ithe dusk to mark their 
sleeping place. 

Perhaps some one gets up in time to 
see them spread their wings and sail 
away in the morning breeze, but we have 
not been so blest. 

The little steamer Ocean View, beside 
her every morning trip sword fishing, 
wMch is in the established order of a day, 
goes daily dm-ing August on an afternoon 
saU around the island, which is well 
worth one's whUe and consumes two 



hours. Then the queer island geography 
is made plain, with the narrow northern 
petolnsulas, the long surf beach by the 
western breach opening into the salt pond, 
the fantasies of the huge southern bluffs, 
wbose only seaward view is by this 
means, and the clay blufts to the north- 
east in a series of pointed ridges, like 
great solid triangles laid sloping to the 
sea, with their pointed edges upward. Here 
the little boat runs nearer the great 
Searles mansion, sitting white and solitary 
on the northeast shore. • 

It stands two miles and a half from the 
nearest point of approach, wherever one 
starts from. When the tide is high and 
every footstep is deep in the clinging sand, 
it is twice as far. Worst lOf all, when one 
reaches there, it is to confront a for- 
bidding sign that absolutely prohibits 
trespassing, and a labyrinth of barbed 
wire fence that convincmgly seconds the 
motion. It is a wise prohibition and a 
necessary one, for the stately white 
building is even a more tempting bait 
than a wreck to visitors, and the house 
wiould be fairly overrun. On this occa- 
sion pen and sword had the customary 
conflict, pen as usual prevailing and en- 
tering triumphant. The great white waUs 
glisten like marble in the sun, and though 
one sees it is wood on nearer view, the 
foun.dation still seems of stone, so skill- 
fully is the wood sanded in simulation. 
The main house is square, with wide 
promenades running about it, enclosed m 
arched colonnades, and protected by mas- 
sive balustrades. Before the house, run- 
ning out seaward, is a huge gray prome- 
nade, with ornamental arches ; the house 
entrances, front and side, open by long 
shuttered doors, directly on the balconies. 
Within the finish of the main house is aU 
pure white', the floors are of polished oak, 
light and dark, the stairway in the great 
hall being especially handsome, and a ma- 
hogany handrail capping the white balus- 
trade. The ell containing the kitchen, 
pantiles and servants' dining-room is fin- 
ished In hard pine, and the half-dozen 
servants' rooms overhead are m Norway 
pme, waUs, ceilings and floors. On tlie first 
floor of the main house is the gi-eat haU, 
the promenade before it, and the dining- 



38 



PLEASANT PLACES IN ERODE ISLAND. 



room and parlor on eltlier side, both 
shaped and linlshod alike. 

The hall Is tlic main glory of the 
house; around one end the solid stalr- 
•ways In tlifir ri'd and while glistening 
■wind thrice up to tlic gue^^t room and tlie 
tTVO suites of rooms tliat open from it on 
either hand, and up again to the picture 
gallery still above, under the great ■vvliite 
skj^-lit dome. The whole, as one. stands 
below and looks up to the glimpses of 
blue slcy tlirough the arched dome win- 
.dows, gives an Impression of even greater 
space than it really contains. In 
the great lower hall are the customary 
polished tables, the rugs, the huge vases, 
the glittering fire-place andirons, and on 
the north and south wall are mounted two 
great snowy owls flecl<ed witli black, and 
their outspread wings and tails making 
a fluffy halo about them as ithoy stand 
perpetually on guard. The boudoirs of 
the upper story are very handsome and 
luxurious rooms, fitted witli evei-y possible 
convenience. The walls, with a tliin coat- 
ing of white over the wood grain, are hung 
with drapei-ies. Gray sliades hang at 
■window and door, and every door-laiob in 
the house is of white glass. The ^'lews 
even from the grounds are magnificent, 
and when one ascends to the roof, fitted 
up for promenading, they are even finer. 

The dome grows handsomer on nearer 
approach, with its ornate Corinthian 
columns between the Gothic arches, and 
the curbing bands that bend to its apex 
of glistening gold, as is the great pine- 
apple that caps the whole. Peculiar as 
the history of the house has been thus far, 
its final dLsposition is now the subject of 
Uvely comaient. Finished in the summer 
of '90, it was intended as one of the least 
pretentious of the mansions of Mr. Searles 
and his "millionairess" wife. As the 
widow of Marie Hoplcins she became pos- 
sessed of $«0,000,noo, and this great white 
house, with its huge rotunda, its white 
and gold walls, mahogany stairs, and 
round picture gallery beneath the high 
dome, was a mere bagatelle beside the 
million dollar house in California, the two 
million residence in Great Barruigton, or 
the suburban homo near Boston where 
Mrs. Searles died. Therefore the great 



white house now stands lonely on the 
beach at the Island, with but one solitary 
custodian to prevent Intrusion and rob- 
bery. The summer home was chosen 
here in the hope of restoring Mrs. Searles's 
faiUng health, and only this season a bath 
house was fitted up on the shore, which 
has its counterpart only among the volup- 
tuous Orientals. It is also white, and Is 
a small copy in outline of the house above 
it, even to the round dome. 

Of course the transient guest cannot 
visit tliese many points of interest, but 
hotel proprietors say that the number of 
guests engaging rooms for the entire sea- 
son is steadily on the increase. Provi- 
dence peoi)le are not, as a rule, among 
those long tarrj-ing, though they make 
the majority of day excursionists. Nor- 
wich and Worcester are two leading 
cities among guests. The Island Is the 
most cosmopolitan resort of the State, 
and the great and mighty of the land 
and the humble kitclien domestic take 
their daily bath together on the pebbly 
beach. There are accommodations to 
suit all purses, and society to suit all 
conditions. 







UUJj POND. 

But one must not say he knows Block 
Island till he has seen it In all seasons, 
particularly in fall, when the bleak, bare 
hills are rich in gorgeous colors as forest 
foliage, and the dark pools have ranks 
of golden reeds. There is coloring then 
not to be surpassed. Those who have 
seen it only at midday have not seen It 
at all. Wait until sunset, when the 
round hills send long, overlapping shad- 
ows across the land, when the beacon 
and the north light grow black against a 



BLOCK ISLAND. 



39 



fcrimson sky and the salt pond : is a fiery 
sea; "wlien tlie •wMte fleet come gently 
stealing in across the darkening -water 
and cluster in the harbor, when the 
black night falls and the billows leap 
white on the shore, and the wild wind 
brings down from the dusky hills the 
plaintive voices of the sheep, calllug and 
crying in the dark; when the orchestral 
music pulses sweet and faint from a dis- 
tant hotel, and in Its pauses the Voice 
of the surf calls rising and falling all 
along the lonely shore. 

Great was our desire to reach the 
real heart of Rhode Island, which we could 
never do while summer guests tarried 
and the natives retired within their 
shells like mollusks to await their going. 
We waited, therefore, till .September went 
out and the last summer folk with it; 
then we embarked again for a more 
lenglhy soiourn at the lonely island. 

It was a very queer thing for the 
staunch little steamer Danielson, bound 
from ProAldeuce to Block Island, to for- 
get the Newport mail, but forget it she 
did, or the one responsible mind on board 
of her. And back from "Pine Jude" to 
Newport plied the plunging vessel, leaving 
her few shivering and seasick passengers 
to exchange condolences in the cabin 
over the agreeable prospect of rounding 
Beaver Tail tlirice in the one trip. 

We two, who stuck resolutely to the 
upper deck and fresh air, were bound to 
Block Island for a longer stay now that 
summer guests were flowi; and island life 
had resiimed its customary torpitude. It 
proved to be an all day's trip on this 
occasion, and the vast dark green swells 
that went rolling heavily by, now and 
then shattering in foam on each other's 
shoulders, were getting just a trifle 
monotonous, when a wild and lurid s.un- 
set glorified the clouds that had mingled 
showers and sundogs around the horizon 
the afternoon long. 

Block Island loomed large to view at 
last, sharply black agalust this wild 
splendor, the north light a death's finger 
tipped with flame, and the long, un- 
dulating line of billowy Mils stretching 
bleak and inhospitable against the cbld 
sky. We had meant to stroll leisurely 



about, seeldng an abiding place among 
some genuine old settlers, but it was 
Saturday, and night descending swiftly. 

" We'll go to a hotel, any one we can 
find, " we decided weakly. " Some of the 
little ones may remain occupied through, 
the winter." 

We scanned the dusky shore eagerly as 
our boat glided in. A long line of 
vehicles, and drivers standing by, 
stretched along the head of the dock. 

" Oh, what nonsense about the hotels 
being aU closed," cried I, superior I, 
who Imew all about Block Island; "there 
are the teams from half a dozen this 
very minute." Blithely and triumphantly 
we gathered up our belongings and 
pressed shoreward in the rear of fwo 
very disgusted oxen who had been sway- 
ing back and forth giddily all the after- 
noon on their thrice-prolonged^ trip from 
NeAvport. And were these hotel teams, 
after all 1 Well, if tiiey were, the pro- 
prietors had relapsed into their old-time 
simplicity ^now that_summer was no more. 
Ox-teams and tip carts pure and simple, 
and no tiling else were they, waiting, alas, 
lor consignments from over the seas and 
not for us. We paused dismayed, but 
who was this tanned and weather-beaten 
stripling, his ingenuous countenance over- 
shadowed by a perplexed smile of half- 
recognition and a familiar Tam o'Shanter? 

" Cornelius I" we cried rapturously. 
" How nice to find you here. And is the 
httle Norwich House stUl open, and can 
we go there, do you suppose V To all 
these queries Cornelius gravely assented, 
and marshaling ub to a waiting carriage 
near at hand, promptly ejected an as- 
tonished dog which had evidently been 
counting on a ride, and bade the ex- 
tremely youthful charioteer drive us to 
the Norwich House. Over the winding 
roads and up the hUls madly tore our 
bony steed, goaded by the shouts and 
lashings of our frowning infant jehu, in 
the headlong manner peculiar to Block 
Island drives ; and when we drew up at 
our goal, there, flushed and breathless, 
but promptly on hand to do the honors, 
was Cornelius himself, having sped madly 
up from tln^ wharf by a series of 
short cuts through barnyards and over 



40 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



meadows, much to Ms mother's alarm. 
Por, a.i that good hidy afterwards rehitvd 
to US. "There I'd Uiid ahed tlie whole 
alternoon, not able to stir hand or foot, 
wondering what could have come to the 
l>anlelson, and when I looked out and saw 
that boy, I said to my sister, 'Sarah, here 
comes 'Nelus, running like mad acrosslots. 
Sometliing lias happened!' " 

But nothing had happened more alarm- 
ing than our advent, matter slight in 
Itself ; but when we afterwards learned 
that Cornelius's mamma had been ill in 
bed for a week, that her "girl" had just 
left, and that the household aid consistea 
of one small daughter and an aged retain- 
er known a;- "old man William," then, 
even so trifling a thing must have taken 
on a tragic signiflcajice in our hostess's 
eyes. Indeed, it was the pathetic plead- 
ings of Uornelius and not our winning 
presence, that won her consent to our 
tarrying. That misguided youth pledged 
himself to be cook, porter, nurse and 
chambermaid, in the absence of those 
functionaries, all of which departments, 
we cheerfully testify, he filled with grace 
and ease. It was not till the second day 
of our stay that we gathered from the 
sepulchral sUence reigning In the kitchen 
as we sat at our solitary meals ta the 
dining-room, attended by Cornelius, still 
Tam 0' Shanter clad, that the youth held 
sole sway there. But that this was the 
case, the youth, when pressed, somewhat 
shamefacedly admitted, ,^' 'Nelus is loth 
to let an old visitor go," declared his 
mother. " If you had been strangers, he 
would have said it wasn't convenient, but 
now ht' can't do too much for you." 

With tJiis passing tribute to the miracu- 
lous powers of our mascot, we resume 
the thread of our narrative. 

Bed time followed close upon tea. 
There was absulutely nothing to do but 
go to bed. The wind had increased to a 
cold and piercing blast from the north- 
west, straight from the sea, as Is every 
wind that blows. 

Tile stars glittert'd with a frosty bril- 
liancy like December, and dotted all about 
the feeble anchorage were other wavering 
stars of vessels waiting for dawn. At our 
airy upper windows we could see away 



up north beyond tlie Great Salt pond that 
greedily monopolizes half of the island's 
northern territory, the steadfast gleam of 
the lighthouse far at the end of the treach- 
erous peninsula of quicksands ; and still 
fartiier ntith, leagues beyond the dark 
waters, a twinkling gleam that flashed and 
faded and flashed again, showed us where 
the unseen breakers roared and seethed 
about the reefs of the sailor's terror. Point 
Judith. 

In the little Norwich House stoves were 
not yet, and we slid speedily and thank- 
fully beneath our many coverlets, and 
slept till the lowing of cows In the 
surrounding pastures woke us to a crisp, 
clear and quiet Sunday morning with the 
keen wind stUl In the air. How silently 
the whole long island lay under the morn- 
ing sun rays. About the little scattered 
white houses among the hUls there was 
no sign of life, but the siftoke curling up- 
ward from the chimney, and away down 
around the wharf, where the many hotels 
cluster ; it seemed a desolate town, wrapt 
In enchanted sleep. 

Our walk led this morning, naturally, 
down along the shore running southward, 
where sun would warm and breeze cease 
to penetrate below the banks growing 
momentarily higher. How stUl it was I 
It was Sunday on the sea, even, and the 
waves broke gently along the rocky 
shores and the white wings of sailing 
vessels weri; few and far. There was the 
ravine lined wAth water-cress, moistened 
with the flow of the mineral springs 
above, and whlcih looked too Icily sug- 
gesl^ive to tempt. But the water-cress — 
how hot, peppery and altogether comfort- 
ing It was ; we consumed immoderate 
quantities, and, suggestive of that erring 
monarch of the Orient turned out to 
grass, strolled on, stUl browsing. The 
strip of shore grew too narrow to travi 
erse, and the ascending sand bluli's more 
formidable, so, mo^ing somewJiat Inland, 
we pursued our course over the Mlla 
southward, the sea still to our left, 
though dropping fartiier and farther be- 
low, till suddenly as we toiled up a 
higher hill, the south light seemed to He 
directly before us, across only an undu- 
lating pasture or two. 



BLOCK ISLAND. 



41 



"Ob, let us go to the light," I pro- 
posed eagerly. " We can't get in to-day, 
of course, but you must see those stiipen- 
dous bluffs it stands on, and we'll get a 
view of the Atlamtio soutliward." So on 
we trudged. But let no man be be- 
guiled by an Ignis fatuus that flits before 
at Block Island. Belore we had trav- 
ersed thart; seemingly brief space, our line 
of march might have been repreKented by 
the wavering and undulating record of a 
pulse-writer. Up one hill and down an- 
other, and a detour round a peat-bog at 
the bottom of each. There are said to 
be 200 of these peat-ponds, httle and 
big, on Block Island, and we couM eiaslly 
credit it. Peat is no longer dug from 
them in quantities, for stoves have sup- 
planted the hospitable old firesides, and 
sohooners bring coal almost daily. Only 
about a few of the conservative "west 
side" abodes does the fragrance of peat- 
smloke still hover, and more rare still is 
It to find 

"Old wives splEning their webs of tow. 
And rociiing weifdly to and fro, 
In and out of the peat's dull glow." 

But peat is mot peat to a genuine 
Islander, anyway. It is tug: and tug Is 
a much more expressive word, thej' who 
wrest it, damp, black and reeking, from 
Its mucky bed can testily. Sptoning 
wheels stiU abound in Manlsses, but thej' 
are mostly to be found Idle in garrer>s 
and cellars. There are plenty of first- 
class spinners still on the Island, but they 
win tell you It isn't "worth while. " 

I/ong on' Mohegan Bluffs we ta'rrled, 
gazln'g upon the massive jutting gray pin- 
nacles shifting and chan^ng from year to 
year, but looking now, against their bacit- 
ground lOtf blue sea, firm as enduring gran- 
ite itself. Golden-rod edged the bluffs, rank, 
rich and fat; there is no other word for 
the seaside golden-rod, with none of the 
airy and graceful plume-like beauty of 
Its upland cousin. Our homeward way 
wias by the road lying close to tlie dizzy 
verge of (the blulfs, and destined some 
day to be in the air beyond them. Tas- 
tenlng, even now, there is a constani 
tinkling fall of pebbles and bits of sand 
down their rough sides. Sheep grazed in 



the velvety pastures, anxl over the, dark 
and reedy pools flitted sand-pipers, and, 
could it be? English sparrows. How 
did the pluckj' little rascals find their 
way here'" Boarding some sailing vessel 
down the bay, did some adventurous pair 
peipch on the imast like Jean Inigelow's 
remarkable dove, and "mourn and mouim 
and mourn" till they reached Manisses? 
Here they are. at any rate, quite accli- 
mated, and as fat, saucy and quarrel- 
some as they are ashore. In the darK 
pond w^aters late white lilies were Unger- 
tng even now. It is something to have 
these dainty flowers on the Island, 
though arbutus, wild rose, clematis and 
wind flower, and the hundred and one 
of our winsome woodland darlings be 
missing. Imagine children who have 
never seen woods — and hardly a dozen of 
the Block Island children have seen them 
or can Imagine what they are like. In- 
deed, it is by no means a majority of 
their elders who have ever been off the 
island, and it is recorded that there are 
dwellers on the west side who haA'^e never 
even crossed the island and beheld the 
giddy scenes in the summer boarders' 
quarters about Hhe landing. There, with 
nothing but the western ocean and the 
eastern hUls to contemplaite, they vegetate 
tUl their time for departure, and ome 
wonders if it has been wonth their while 
to live. 

Our walk has made us late for church. 
We hear a beU faintly tolling up among 
the hills before we are half way home. 
We have missed our opportunity to see 
the Baptist patriarchs in council. Per- 
haps, at this time, too, the native females, 
of whose excluslveness the summer board- 
ers complain so bitterly, rally their forces 
and appear In public. But we see noth- 
ing of them about their homes, now or 
ever, as we roam the island. One day, 
as I sat alone in a carriage on a lonely 
road, awaiting the retuim of my comrade 
and the omnipresent Cornelius from a 
photographing tour, there emerged from 
a neighboring house on the hillside a 
fresh-faced and graceful young woman, 
who proceeded to hang out a wash on the 
line with some difficulty, owing to the 
boisterous breezes. Her lithe young fig- 



42 



PLEASANT PLACES IN EIIODE ISLAND. 



ure, outlined against the skj-, among the 
snowy garments, in its action and spirit, 
■was like a picture. A little child toddled 
out of the house presently, and the young 
■woman— she loolied too young to bo its 
mother— caught it by the hands and be- 
gan a spii"itcd dance along tJie hilltop. 
Suddenly she espied the "waiting vehicle 
and my observant face, and like a flash 
she "was gone, and 1 sa"w her no more. 
So fled "\vithin doors the entire female 
population, at our approach. They sliould 
■wear the yashmalv, or "whatever the Orien- 
tal veil is called. My mind misgives me 
as to the above "word. 

Ou Monday "we "went to see the "wreck. 
It "was a coal schooner, and she lay hard 
aground up on the north"west shore, near 
the breach that connects the great salt 
pond "with the sea. She had grounded 
there in the night and storm of a "week 
before, and her masts could be seen, faint 
and skeleton-like, across the "water and 
peeping over the high sand dunes, from 
our piazza. Cornelius volunteered as 
driver, however he found time from his 
manit\ild duties ; but as "we descended the 
steps for departure, "we caught a brief 
and flei ting glimpse of " old man Wil- 
liam" hard at it dish "washing. Old 
man William someho"w made us think of 
pictui'es of gnomes and kobolds, and tliose 
merry little folks of many kinds that 
d'well in German fairy forests. He had a 
little home all by himself upon the shores 
of the salt lake, and he "was a bachelor. 
Ilo"w he chanced to be "wintering in the 
Rose household did not transpire, but it 
added much to the charm of our Bohe- 
mian banquets, "whereat a young and ten- 
der fo"wl "ft'as daily offered up, to tliink 
that this agile little old man "with his 
long gray beard and t"winkling eyes, his 
cap and his apron, "was hovering about 
the kitchen lire and directing the moA^e- 
meiits of the youthful Cornelius. 

We drove merrily away toward tlie salt 
pond ; the air was still crisp and cool, 
and Oornelius had thoughtfully furnished 
each scat with a bed comfortable, gal- 
lantly taking ihe most frayed and ancient 
one himself, and speeding through the 
harbor roads in sublime disregard of the 
tatters lluttering merrily outside. Here 



and there a "native female" at door or 
Aviudow, made bold by a compatriot 
among ils, hailed us with " 'Nelus, how's 
your ma ?" for Mrs. Rose still kept her 
bed. 

We passed the school house at the Cen- 
tre, meeting a gi-oup of children joyously 
homewar<l bound, having just encountered 
a notice on the door of the teacher's ill- 
ness. Our mascot cheerfully hailed them. 
" Turn baclv, children," lie called out, 
" your teacher's sick, and you're going to 
have a new one to-day," and gravely pro- 
ceeded to turn up before the school house 
door and draw rein amid a dismayed si- 
lence. A shout of derisive laughter pres- 
ently arose, as, haAdng declined to further 
his deception, we moved on, and shrill 
little voices called out, "Alia, "we loiew 
you was foolin' us!" Fancy the relief. 

There are five schools on the Island — 
the Centre, Harbor, GuUy, West Side and 
one other, whose name we eitlier did not 
learn or have forgotten. We visited the 
largest one day. The big boys who will 
attend the winter scliool Avere far at sea, 
fishing, but there were a half-hundred 
Lalls, Dodges, Mitchells, Roses and Little- 
fields painfully acquiring knowledge "with- 
in its walls, and tliey looked very like 
the small patrons of a district scliool else- 
w'here, except that they were a trille more 
bronzed and tanned by the sun and the 
sea breezes. Quite contented are the 
large majority with the mdimentary in- 
struction furnished here. The few of 
overweening ambition, who seek superior 
instruction on shore, are apt to wash 
tlieir liands of their native soil, and abide 
among the " offeners," for such is the 
name the Islanders bestow on dwellers on 
the mainland. And when Ave asked them 
why, they said, " Oh, because tliey come 
from way off!" 

We passed also tlie most picturesque 
old gray wind mill It has ever been our 
lot to see, a huge and quaint designed old 
structure, once an ornament and a ser- 
Aice to the harbor, but long since aban- 
doned and moA'ed up inland, to moulder 
slowly among the low hills about It. 
Block Island has no trees to take on gor- 
geous autumn colors, but the hills turn 
e\'ery delicate shade of ohve, russet and 



\ 



BLOCK ISLAND. 



43 



brown, and look at a distance like great 
soft cushions of plnsli, tumbled carelessly 
about by giant bands. 

We passed tlie old graveyard, more 
populous than tbe island, and where 
scores of the dead and gone members of 
the Island's dozen families or so lie in 
clannish comradeship. Dates In the 1600's 
are to be found on the mossy stones, and 
.quaint old epitaphs innumerable. One in 
particular was remarkably unigue, reading 
something like this : 

"She was a woman of rare domestic 
virtues, of great and exemplary piety— 
but I" 

The young doctor of the Island, Dr. 
Perry— for there are three in all, says that 




OLD "WINDJVnili. 

rheumatism and dyspepsia are the chief 
foes of the islanders, and that th' ir endur- 
ance of pain is not made with remarkable 
fortitude. Rheumatic pains are engendered 
by their lives of hardship and exposure, 
and dyspepsia by their poor and indigesti- 
ble food ; and, indeed, when one comes to 
think of it, he would scarcely -covet the 
Block Islander's winter menu. Constant 
and increasing intermarriage must also in- 
evitably have Its eflEect on the physical as 
well as mental well-being of the natives. 
The only thing that we envied this capa- 



ble and cultured young physician tn his 
voluntary winter exile from cultivated hu- 
manity Is his opportunity to study the 
queer old-time ways and environment of 
the island folk Into whose Tiomes he wUl 
have access. Through the efforts of Mrs. 
Rose, -who is herself a descendant of the 
old Dodges, we visited more than one cen- 
tury-old house, saw the sptaning wheels 
and the "line gear" and the obsolete de- 
vices now laid aside tn most homesteads, 
heard old tales and legends and secured a 
valuable old relic vastly prized; buf- after 
all, we feel that the real heart of Block 
Island was revealed but feebly for our 
searching. 

Wending their way homeward from the 
wreck we met here and there an ox-team 
freighted with dripping coal plundered 
quite openly and brazenly from the de- 
fenceless schooner, borne to shore In row- 
boats and thence transferred. These 
shameless wreckers wore one and all an 
air of jolly bravado, and invariably hailed 
us with " Goin' wrackin' ?" 

The wrecked schooner wlien we reached 
her lay far out in the water almost on her 
usual level, the waves breaking dismally 
over her deck. The captain and one or 
two of her crew paced drearily up and 
down the sands -naiting the tug's arrival. 
Dories black with coal dust lay about the 
shore. Cornelius skipped into on 3 and 
with never an inA'itation to follow, pad- 
dled blithely out to the deserted wreck, 
and eventually took up a picturesque posi- 
tion in the rigging, awaiting a transfer 
to a negative of our camera, and it may 
not comfort that graceless youth to know 
that he figures there as a remote object 
pinhead-size. It was in a furious mid- 
night storm that the schooner grounded, 
the watch neither hearing nor seeing the 
breakers till the instant before she struck, 
and the captain having taken the north 
light for Montauk! From four mUes be- 
low, thfe saving station men hauled their 
car and other apparatus in the teeth of 
the storm, got aU the crew safely landed 
and were snugly back in the bed within 
four hours. Disgusted sailors at the har- 
bor told us that the islanders might have 
made more money by keeping about their 
regular work and buying their coal at car- 



44 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



go prices than by their wrecking expedi- 
tions, but it seems an instinct born In the 
heajts of the native islanders, and it Is 
easy to believe In the wild tales oX the 
Palatine. 

The Island chronicler has been Mrs. 
Caroline N\'illis, but she died in the sum- 
mer of '91, in her 98th year, and her 
mantle must fall on another. There was 
no limit to the tales and traditions this 
gifted and garrulous old lady could nar- 
rate, and the island genealogy was at her 
tongue's end. Another famous character 
Is an old man residing on the west side, 
who is deaf, dumb and blind, but who is 
remarkably intelligent considering his 
limitations, and deliglited to receive visit- 
ors and small oblations, tobacco exchanged, 
tbough he usually jocailarly gives visitors 
to understand that he intends purchasing 
new garments with them. 

We drove everywhere, sometimes mas- 
cot attended, and sometimes alone. But 
ever and anon, in the most Isolated quar- 
ter of the island, we would start to hear 
a loud and stertorous breathing in our 
very ears, and there would be Comejius 
close behind, mounted on his old spotted 
white horse, and ubiquitous as Ms Tam 
O'Shanter, leaving dinner apparently to 
get itself, for it was always gottisn some- 
how. We went to the west side saN'lng 
station, and all through the bright and 
cosy building, inspecting the apparatus 
with a tlioroughness which would be com- 
mendable in a GrOViernment official, and 
waxing wroth, as we always do, in the 
consideration of the meagre pay received 
by these brave fi'iUows. Excitement ran 
high on the day of our visit. Two hen 
hawks appeared hovering high In air, and 
it was astonishing to see what an armed 
population sprang up and ran to cover, 
and fired futile shots Into the air. We got 
a fish eagle, a magnificent osprc-y— per- 
haps we shot him— and Ave brought him 
home and had him stuffed. And we would 
have brought home another that we 
picked up, had we not been deterred by 
an evil and irreverent referenc to St. John 
xi., 39, for the taxidermist's remark on 
unwrapping the fov.ll, made by a party 
who shall properly be nameless. 

We drove to the bathmg beach, and the 



sand drives, and the gully school. We 
drove everywhere but to that elusive north 
light. Here we were stayed by direful 
reports of how the big storm had driven 
sand over the peninsula and blotted out 
the road, and how W9 were sure to ^et 
Into quicksand and sLnlc from sight. For 
my part, 1 begin to think there is no 
north light— that it is a corposani or a 
spectre like the fire-ship. I would believe 
almost anything weird and tincanny about 
Block Island, whose very atmosphere is 
as unlike the mam land as a foreign coun- 
try. And, Indeed, It is said that horses 
and dogs brought here seldom become ac- 
cfliraated. We do not doubt it, for some 
of the native horses look as if they were 
not acclimated, either. Strange sea fowl 
hover over the island, but there are few 
birds or animals on shore. 

Rustling corn-stacks and golden pump- 
kins lighten the sloping fields with splen- 
dor, just now, but late fall and early 
spring must see them desolate. Yet, ah, 
what a glorious place to slide down hllll 
Think of it, poor little city youngsters, 
whose feeble descent down a faintly slop- 
ing street is liable to end with a rap on 
the shoulder from a big, big policeman I 

But we did not shiver during all oup 
stay. With a sudden caprice, the air grew 
spring-like, mUd and balmy, and there 
was a fragrance as of delicate flowers in 
all the air. They were golden days in 
which we roamed, unmolested, wherever 
we pleased, and every day seemed like 
Sunday, with the fishing fleet far out at 
sea, and only sailing safely home at dusk. 
lb was only fun for the tilne, to go " shop- 
ping," to never find what we wanted, and 
then pay twice as much as we expected 
for what we didn't want. But In time 
this would have lost Its charm. The 
mind shrinks in dismay from such an un- 
dertaking as building and furnishing a 
house here, yet they are built, and when 
one Is rarely empty. It can be rented for 
two or three dollars a month ! 

A salt flavor is over the whole island, 
even to the row boats in the door-yards, 
flower filled, the fuU-rlgged miniature 
ships on the parlor tables, the shells on 
tlie mantel, and the fish sizzing in the 
frying pan. And if the solemn assevera- 



BLOCK ISLAND. 



45 



tlon of the natives is to be believed, tbe 
gateway arch of tbe Spring House Is com- 
posed of -whale's "tushes," from the whale 
washed ashore years ago. And if whales 
have tushes ten feet long, the statement 
Is not to be doubted. 

The longer our tarrying, the vaster our 



discoveries, and we would have departed 
more reluctantly, but for our reflecting 
that for all times to come, awaiting our 
return— 

"Circled by waters that never freeze, 
Hcaton by billows and swept by breeze, 
Lieth the island of Manisses." 



QUONOCONTAUQ BEACH. 



[Sixty miles from Providence. Stouington. Railroad to Niantie, thence by carriage south to Beach 
7 miles.] 



THERE was no land soul to Inform 
the Ignorant stranger that Niantic 
was the nearest point to Quono- 
contaug, so the ignorant stranger jour- 
neyed blithely to Wesierly, there to take 
the boat for Watch Hill, and from Watch 
HIU to proceed east to Quonocontaug by 
■whatever vehicle one could find for love 
or money. 

But the traveller had not counted on 
finding a liar In Westerly. There "was 
one, and he said a boat -went to Watch 
HUl three hours earlier than it really 
did. Kealizing the mistalce, there was 
no better way of sa\4ng those precious 
three hours than by being driven directly 
to yuonocontaug. The beach was two 
inches from Westerly, AVe remember, 
which ought not to take more than a 
half-hour to travel, an Inch standing for 
a matter of two miles. But who would 
dream that a little pond only a third of 
an inch long, over which our measure 
had unswervingly passed, deeming it a 
road puddle through wliich our horse 
could plash, meant a detour of a half- 
hour'? The di-ive, therefore, was long; 
but It led through a new and delightful 
region. It was alung the old post-road, 
where once the gallant stage-coach gayly 
dashed with its four staunch horses all 
the way from Stonington to Narragansett 
Pier. There Is a mall-wagon now, to be 
sure, for there are straggling hamlets of 
post offices all along the way that lie far 
from the path of railways ; but it is a 
modest little affair that recognizes a 
superior and only goes as far as Kingston. 

In the wild, barren and unfruitful 
country, where roclvy pastures alternate 
with sea-Invaded marshes, there Is little 



to tempt a man to fix his home, and 
miles of wild waste land lie between even 
next door neighbors, whose houses are 
nearly every one, old, quaint, and gray 
as the wood of fence-rails or wasps' nest. 

What do the people do all alone here? 
I asked the genial driver. 

" Farm it," he replied ; " In summer. 
And in the spring and fall of the year 
fisb it." 

Now why that first occupation should 
seem perfectly decorous, and the second 
something exceedingly funny, I cannot 
say ; but it Is Impossible to think of all 
those desolate 'long shore country folk 
" fishing it" without rising mirth. 

"That is the Quaker burying ground," 
he said presently, pointing to a rising 
meadow rich with waving grasses. 

"You mean it was once," I appended. 

"No, 'tis now." 

" But where are the graves— the head- 
stofies ■?» 

" Oh, they don't believe m them," said 
the driver. "Get up, Dick I— here's the 
Seventh Day meeting house. Lots of 
those folks in Westerly ; it comes handy." 

It did. Indeed, If one wished to do 
something of an uncommonly secular 
nature on Sunday, he had then only to 
make his plans a day beforehand, attend 
chm-ch on Saturday and then proceed to 
business. 

Off to the right, among green hlUs and 
lonely woods, we saw a high white bin 
of sand— barren and shifting as the sea 
shore ; regular beach sand, the driver 
said It was, and added that there was 
much speculation as to what brought it 
there. There was a great bowlder, too. 
away In the woods to the left, a gigantic 



qUONOCONTAUG BEACH. 



47 



stone of some four or five tons weight on 
whicli one migM stand, and, bending his 
weight from side to side, cause it to 
totter on Its base. So old mother earth 
has heen at her antics away down In this 
little corner, too. 

Before another old gray house — ^a some- 
what pretentious structure which was in 
Its day the old Town Hall— there stands a 
gaunt and spectral huttonwood tree, gray 
with age and moss, a landmark for a long 
distance. An old, old man in Westerly- 
let us 'hope that this one was a truthful 
person— remembers to have stood among 
a curious crowd once long ago to see the 
last punishment for theft toy whipping. 
A mutton-loving man had stolen a sheep, 
and he was strapped to the old button- 
wood while the Sheriff laid on the pre- 
scribed, number of lashes. 

Are they rather severe on live stock 
down this way? We came presently 
upon a cluster of little, cowering yellow 
ducklings in a side yard, and a sun-bon- 
neted woman standing over them with a 
long switch. She was not using it as we 
passed, but I'm afraid she did after we 
got by. Whatever their misdoing, switch- 
ing little yellow ducks seems rather a 
cruel business. Aside from this reso- 
lute female, we met all along this ancient 
road only a young man with cabbage 
plants, an aged man with patches and a 
young woman with white gloves. 

There was a pretty little boarding 
place on this road called the Ocean View 
House, the significance of which title will 
dawn upon one M he find facilities for 
mounting the ridge pole. Wild roses 
bloomed confidingly before it, as they 
did all along the way, and every marshy 
pond among the reeds was wliite with 
lilies. We learned that Mr. Hoxsie, a 
native hard by, smoked bucMes in the 
spring, caught when they came up into the 
ponds to spawn. After musing a while, 
we ventured to inquire what bucldes 
were. " Why, I guess you caU, them bony 
fish down m Providence," said the 
driver. But we did not. and it was not 
till he further called them menhaden that 
we were enlightened. 

And now the rain, which had been a 
baptism and a deluge from early morning 



tUl oui- arrival in Westerly, began again 
in a gentle drizzle. It drifted north with 
the ocean breeze and wrapped us In a 
particularly damp mantle. The land- 
scape reth-ed, and the only object visible 
m its entirety was our joggmg horse. We 
went and we went. Was there never a 
southward turning?- Never would we be 
deceived again by two inches on a map. 
IW^hy had we not left the train at Mantle, 
a six short miles from shore? Perhaps 
the di'iver had a grudge against news- 
paper folk and meant to drive and drive 
at an awful price an hour. We stole a 
furtive look at him, but his kind face 
was reassuring. In the language of the 
present hour, he was all right. 

The tall, harsh marsh grass by the 
wayside rustled, like hay in the rainy 
wind. It was high as a man's waist 
and leaned straight northward. And as 
we still went on through the splashing 
puddles, the horse's hoofs kept beating 
time to a snatch of Scripture that mock- 
ingly persisted in returning to mind: 
"But what went ye out into the wilder- 
ness for to see? A reed shaken with the 
wind?-' VerUy, it Was the limit of our 
vision. 




QUONOCONTAUG BEACH. 

But with a sudden sharp turn we were 
lieaded southward, and the beach lay not 
far away. We could hear its mnffled 
roar. The road was a narrow, stony one, 
over pasture land, fine massive posts 
marking the places where as many gates 
were formerly |hung to prevent cattle 
straying. The driving ram held up a 
little, aud we could see before us a 
cluster of gay cottages fronting seaward, 
and a number of older settlers farther 
to the west. All the way between was 
one fragrant wilderness of marsh grass 
and wild roses. The shore line was hid- 



48 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



den by the stiarp, uiidulntlng line of a 
range of sand lilUs, mingled green and 
gray. No one was to be seen on tills 
■wild morning, and it was tlie part of 
prudence to get luider shelter tUl the 
Bhower abated. The driver set us down 
before a cottage and departed with Ids 
horse. A kindly cottager directed us to 
a place where we could get dinner. All 
along the front of the cottages on the sea- 
ward side a plank walk runs, and ter- 
minates at a new buUdlng put up re- 



flnlshed the heavens had brightened. By 
the kindness of residents, and our own ob- 
ser\'ations, we felt quite familiar with 
Quonocontaug before we left. It was a 
great sui-prlse — a wUd and surf-beaten 
shore like this, In a corner of our own 
tiny State, so given to crowded watering 
places. Far along the shore the breakers 
were thundering, and it seemed odd that a 
half-dozen or so of stately hotels were 
not confronting them. At the west end of 
the beach, near the pond— for here a large 




THE XEW STATION. 



cently for the accommodation of guests— 
the Cafe St. George. 

We had hot meant to enter so abrupt- 
ly, but a wild gust from the Atlantic 
started in at the same time, and we flew 
In together, accompanied by a burst of 
rain. The landlord, manifestly not ex- 
pecting callers from the Atlantic, rose 
hastily from an unoccupied dinner table 
where he had been taking a siesta, and 
advanced in some confusion. We could 
have dinner, and did, a worsted motto 
satirically bidding us meanwhile to eat, 
drink and be merry. But before we had 



salt pond makes up into the meadows— are 
the oldest cottages, a cluster of fourteen ; 
they have been built from twelve to fif- 
teen years. Right before them Is the 
bathing beach, the spot marked by a pe- 
culiarly fantastic rise of an isolated sand 
hill at the pond's mouth, a sort of a "tri- 
mountaln" with an undulating triple sum- 
mit and reedy girass waving all up its 
landward side. Here one could have no 
excuse for not learning to swim, for the 
salt pond affords the quietest possible 
bathing rink, while braver or sturdier 
bathers have the wild surf of the south 



QUONOCONTAUG BEACH. 



49 



sliore to battle witli. We found, as usual, 
that the ever-elusive undertow had re- 
treated when we got here ; there was no 
undertow here, the natives said, they 
had it at Noyes's Beach. . The iNoyes's 
Beach people said the undertow was at 
Watch HUl, and Watch Hill people say 
they have far less uiidertow than the 
bathing beach at Narra^'ansett Pier ; and 
we all know the Pier people pride them- 
selves on the absence of it along their 
bathing beach. It is something as diffi- 
cult to find as "down East" or "out West." 

" Had much rain down in Providence?" 
said Mr. Rice of the Cafe St. George. 

"A good deal," said we. "But why do 
you all say 'down in Providence 1' It is 
up on the map, and It's up country." 

"Well, I don't know," said. ;Mr. iRlce. 
"It don't make much difference about up 
or down here^>he tide goes both ways." 

The fourteen cottagtes represent dwellers 
from all about the southern part of 
the State, and the seven newer ones were 
built by a party of friends and neighbors, 
all from Ashaway. There are house lots 
stUl for sale along the shore, and they 
would probably be taken up a good deal 
faster if there were -jome public con- 
veyance to the beach. A railroad has 
been surveyed through here, and a name 
has been given it— the Sea View— but here 
it has paused, and the natives do not 
speak hopefiiUy of Its further progress. 
But a life saving station, long needed, 
went up in the .season of '91, and has 
already done efficient service among the 
vessels that have come to grief on the 



outlying reefs. The only wonder is that 
it was not long before erected. 

Until seven years ago a small hotel 
stood here at the pond's edge ; but it 
mysteriously took fife and burned down, 
and has never been rebuilt. There is a 
building, however, where shore dinners 
are served, and where a few boarders can 
be accommodated. Mr. Rice, aUso, has 
room for boarders this year, for the trig 
little building he now has replaces a tent 
where he formerly dispensed food and 
drink to guests, but wasi given up because 
It was "mighty inconvenient." 

Large partes from Westerly, Ashaway 
and other places often come down for the 
day, and it is a spot for unrestrained 
freedom and froUc. What would the fine 
folk of Newport think, for instance, of the 
shocking '; spectacle of a party of young 
folk in bathing costume— at the wrong 
hour, too— pursuing each other up and 
down the borderiag sand hiljls, dancing on 
their summits and hUariously immuring 
each other In graves of sand? 

Then there are more staid companies of 
plcknickers who come down for a, bake of 
their own on the shore. A fisherman's 
hut hard by, where two jolly fellows keep 
bachelor's hall, furnish them with lob- 
sters, black fish or tautog, as they say 
" down in Providence," and blue flsh, and 
the day goes fleetjly by in strolling, shell 
gathering and bathing, watching the dis- 
tant track of the passing steamers and 
the changing shores of Block Island and 
the blue outline of Long Island far across 
the Sound. 



CHARLESTOWN AND MATUNUCK. 



[Narragansett Pier Railroad to Wakefield, by liotel carriage to Matunuck Beach. Matunuck Beach 
Hotel and Cashman House.] 



THERE Is hardly any section of our 
small State so difficult of access, 
so uninviting as to byway drives 
and yet so thoroughly strange and Inter- 
esting as the desolate, Avild tract laiown 
as Charlestown, Its southern shores bat- 
tered by the wild Athmtic, and unsettled 
■wilderness and unbroken forest to the 
north and. west. With two days to spare, 
one can penetrate quite deeply into Its 
lonely reaches, and by way of Matunuck 
enjoy a much more varied, drive. Whether 
one start from I^rovidence or clsewhero, 
the village of Wakefield is the nearest 
point by raU, and it was from Wakefield 
that we set forth. 

Wakefield, itself holds its own with most 
Ehode Island villages ; its principal street, 
tree shaded and. flower bordered, is lined 
•with beautiful old homes, ideal nooks in 
wbich to dream away a summer, and be- 
yond is the beautiful Robinson place on 
the seaward side, all gray stone and 
majitling ivy. Leading southwest from 
the village, the road lies never far from 
the sea. with a distant line of blue al- 
ways to the left, dotted with the white 
specks of distant satis, except when 
woods yet primeval border the hard hlgh- 
•way and glossy shrubs show wlaere, weeks 
before, the magnificent waxen blooms of 
the rhododendron reigned, favoring only 
the South County with their wild beauty. 

Pleasant as our drive was, it was yet 
not specially characteristic till Wakefield 
and civilization were left far behind ; 
then it began to grow peculiar. To the 
left of the macadamized highway were 
the usual lush green moadows, stretching 
tlLstantly to the sea, but on the right rose 
inesently rolling hills, bare and frowning, 



their harshness only aggravated by gray 
strewn bowlders thiit literally peppered 
the hillsides. Mile after mile they towered 
be-'side us, a most remarkable freak of 
nature, and as desolate as ever a ban-en 
Sahara could be. It was surely from 
here that Block Island was separated In 
some huge convulsion of nature and 
washed far out to sea, for here only Is 
its counterpart. The clustering gray 
stones that follow the undulating lines 
of towering hillock and sinking valley 
give a singular look of bleakness and 
slt^rUity to the whole wUd region, though 
the lesser foot hUls are clothed In the 




KING TOM'S HOUSE. 

short green of bayberry and huckleberry 
bushes, whose bine-black globes peered 
mocldngly In our faces from over all the 
numberless stone walls, wlille black- 
berries lay dead-ripe in perfect mats all 
along the dusty, loaely roadside. No 
fences did we see on either side tills 
highway. It was surely easier work to 
pick up the countless stones that lay 



CHABLESTOWN AND MATUNUCK. 



51 



ready at liancL and erect tliese solid ram- 
parts of stone -wall which, stretched far 
Into the hazy distance, helped out the 
weird look of grayness. Flociis of sheep, 




CniEFTAIN OF THE NINIGEETS. 



too, ambled in mUd fright over the rolling 
uplands before our approach, and they, 
too, were gray, and not at all the snowy 
white that iinpractical poets make them. 



Now and then a pond nestled in the level 
green of the more lowly landscape to the 
left, and if it boasted a tiny islet or a 
jutting peninsula, that, too, would be 
covered to the very water's edge with 
the velvety green bayberry. Its sweet, 
spicy air made the sea-salt air more 
bracing, and the birds sang lustily as they 
wheeled and dipped in the blue waters. 
The remnant of the once powerful Nar- 
ragansett tribes are scattered all along 
these shores, degenerate and intermixed. 
Whether more Indian or negro it is some- 
limes difficult to read in the dusky figures 
one meets, but it is probably true that 
half the native negroes about the country 
have an admixture of Indian blood. In 
lonely state at the foot of one wild rise 
we passed, stood a bit of a gray shanty, 
and out of its open door rolled and tum- 
bled one by one eight little pickanlames, 
dusJi and shiny as the huckleberries that 
grew profusely about, and on which it 
seemed they must have been brought up. 
With the African love of color, the little 
dooryard was aU ablaze with gold and 
scarlet poppies. Few and scattering were 
the homes we passed, and the local archi- 
tecture in these was strlMng. One house 
had Its front painted gracefully in the 
form of a festooned curtain, with tassels 
depending from the eaves and tucked 
neatly away behind the windows. Unless 
memory serves falsely this house was blue 
and yellow. Another harmony In pink 
and brown was decorated as to the friont 
door with a perfect _gash, bows and 
notched ends carefully painted. Crude 
and barbaric as some of these designs 
were, one grew to understand the craving 
for brilliant color in this green and gray 
land, and it was a pretty bit we came 
upon suddenly, as we went on and on, 
and Matunuck's shore came in sight. An- 
other little time-woru gray cottage, a 
huge sheltered wall where bee hives clus- 
tered, a rank of crimson hollyhocks, and 
in among them a morsel of a shluy little 
black girl standing with hands clasped 
and head drooping. In the foreground, 
among a helter-skelter array of sand mats, 
color boxes and so on, a young lady was 
hard at work putting this effective group- 



52 



r LEAS ANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



Ing on canvas. It U.isliod up at ns as 
■we sped by too lleetly— the duskj' Uttle 
fipiins -with Us crimpy pig-tails, crimson 
hollyhocks and all. 

Just hcyond was the turn in the road 
that led to Matunuck beach and the sea, 
and opposite tlils branch stood porclied 
on a commanding <^mlnenoe the dark red 







CRYING EOCTCS. 

cottage that lias been lor twenty yeai's the 
summer home of Edward Everett Hale. 
Here we halted, cm-ioslty and Interest 
•being too much for us, mingled with an 
all-consuming anxiety to know how Mr. 
Hale felt to be the originator of the 
largest social-religious society In the 
country, and also what he meant by his 
queer storj^ of the far-famed Block Island 
fire-ship. Mr. Hale was at home and 
hard at work at his typewriter in Ms 
cosy study, and until he should be at 
liberty Miss Hale, the sister, entertained 
us in the breezy reception room looking 
seaward, a cosy, homelike apartment, 
with sketches of familiar bits adorning 
the walls, and on the panels of the slid- 
ing doors that shut out the study compan- 
ion sketches of the regal scarlet swamp 
lily and pale purple milk weed. Mr. 
Hale's daughter was the artist here, and 
she it was who was at work among the 
bees and the hollyhocks down below. Miss 
Hale had recently written a syndicate 
letter describing the summer home In full, 
and saj's with Avliimslcal frankness that 
she much prefers doing it herself to al- 
lowing some one else. Tliere are but four 
who make up the family here ; no new 



neighbors have come to occupy tlie land, 
and tile whole Hale family congratulate 
themselves on the perfect seclusion rarely 
Interrupted by Invading strangers. 

Mr. Hale presently appeared, and was 
kindness Itself to us apologetic strangers. 
He even confided to us that he did not 
believe writing autographs was the bore 
some public men would have one belleye 
—that, lor liis part, when a modest little 
J;irl out in Iowa or somewhere 
else took the trouble to write 
him a nice little letter Inclosing a stamp 
lor his autograph, he felt It very churl- 
ish to refuse. This was Indeed amiable. 
He took us to the beautiful little lake 
back of the house, where th(>re Is a 
bit of a boat house, and showed us the 
spreading view from a lofty hillock. He 
told us how Point Judith took its name 
from Judith Hull, daughter of the old 
mint master of pine tree shilling fame in 
Hawthorne's story ; he told us that Jlatu- 
nuck meant "the back waj'," and said 
that Ithe road down which we'were travel- 
ling was the "queen's road," and dated 
from the time of Queen Anne. In the 
midst of his kindly talk he plucked for 
us each a hucldeberry bush, but I am 
sorrj' to admit that in the midst of eager 
listening to the explanation of the fire 
ship story I absently nibbled off the ber- 
ries from my own and cast it far from 
me, to suffer vast regret afterward. 

The fire ship, then, when 5Ir. Ingluim 




NINIGUET LODGE. 

and his friends all hastened down to the 
IMatuniick shores In Mr. Hale's Narragan- 
sett book, was made to vanish with Felix 
Carter and all the rest, because, as Mr. 
Hale said, he felt that the public were 
wearj'ing of the admirable Felix and 



CHABLESTOWN AND MATUNUCK. 



53 



Fausta, and it seemed a pleasant ending 
to speed them off into the mist and mys- 
tery that envelop the Palatine's vanishing ; 
a Mndl^ ending, too, for the old Palatine is 
apt to reappear, and why not they ? The 
" Brick Moon," of which we spoke, was, 
of course, Mr. Hale said, a parable, mean- 
ing to show how possible it was for 37 




IMDIAK MEETING HOUSE. 

congenial persons to exist happily with 
absolutely no diversion outside each 
other's society ; and when we spoke of the 
good we had gained in earlier years by 
the series of helpful essays called " How 
to Do It," Mr. Hale told us the book had 
been locally adopted as a text book, and 
he hoped to see it generally accepted 
some time, as it seemed to him most 
fitted for that. There could scarcely be 
a more practically helpful one for young 
people. 

Mr. Hale bears his years lightly and 
genially, though the silver is predomi- 
nant in the long locks that fall to his 
shoulders ; he wished us good speed witli 
a cordiality that sent us buoyantly on 
down the Matunuck road. 

Matunuck Eeach is a popular spot with 
Providence people— more so, perhaps, than 
any other surf beach on our coast, albeit 
there is nothing, absolutely nothing, thore 
but one hotel, a half-dozen bathing houses 
and— the ocean. But it is easy of access ; 
carriages meet the trains at Wakefield, 
and it has certainly a most magnificent 
reach of shore and surf. There are no 
rocks, no sand dunes, no s:ilt marshes; 
nothing but meadows and a level, far- 
stretching shore. The beach has not the 



wUdness of Quonocontaug farther west; 
it is too level, too barren; but the safe 
bathing In the hea-s^y surges makes it a 
great attraction, sufficiently so to war- 
rant the erection of a first-class hotel. The 
Cashman House, somewhat back from the 
sea, thougli accommodating but a limited 
number, is an excellent house, and often 
preferred by guests to the regular hotel 
on the shore. 

We did not tarry long, for we wished 
to see the heart of Charlestown, so 
we retraced our way to the queen's 
road and plodded westward. We would 
have done better to take the new 
road through the southern fields, for the 
ciueen's road was not of a degree of excel- 
lence commonly associated with regal re- 
quirements. It was sandy, inexpressibly 
sandy, and the dust enveloped us as in a 
mantle, as we ground through if, or 
trudged up hill in mercy to our perspir- 
ing horse, consoling ourselves [by pluck- 
ing frequent blackberries. Far down the 
desolate road, after we had passed through 
a wliole plain of aromatic scrub pines, 
making a scant balsamic shade, we passed 
an old, old house, witli a rear roof that 




3 -Q:?- 

rOKT NBSflGBET. 
sloped down from a two-and-a-half-story- 
height to a mUd Uttle jump from the 
ground. It is the home of Charles 
Church, brother of the lightkeeper at 
Point Judith and the Pier. Inside are 
the massive rafters, the cavernous fire- 
places, cranes and andirons of long ago. 



54 



PLEASANT PLACES IN BHOBE ISLAND. 



The house Is two centuries old, and has 
been inhabited by generation after gen- 
eration of the same family. Down in the 
fields, on the new road, is the oldest house 
in tlie region, and the date 1033' is set in 
curious ligures above the door. The chim- 
ney alone would make a good-sized room. 
On, and on still, we come to Cross's 
Mills, which is the real centre of Charles- 
town. Years ago, before the little stone 
church in the woods was built, the neigh- 
bors say this little settlement was per- 
petually graced by a dozen or so of Ind ans, 
lying about in various degrees of intox- 
ication. While they have deteriorated in 
blood, they have certainly improved in 
morals, and the few siir\lvois of an ancient 
tribe are scattered to various peaceful vo- 
cations—farming, fishing and mason work 
—for the Narragansetts are born masons, 
perhaps as there is such ^abundance of 
stone in the neighborhood. The founda- 
tions of many of the finest Tier cottages 
are laid by the hands of the Indians. 




liHi'^';;;:!tV-'' 



IINCIiB GED. 

The little churcli stands among the re- 
current stones and huckleberry bushes, 
approached by only a bumpy cart road. 
It is a severely plain stone bnilding, with 
a single window either side the door. In 



the lirush back of the church are a few 
grave stones, their legends cut by tlie 
Indians also. Thi' royal burying ground 
lies further south toward the sea, and 
beneath its rapidly leveling mounds the 




JOB DENT'S EESIDEXCE, 

bones of Queen Mary and King George 
Ninigi-et are said to lie. In the graves 
of those honored by interment here were 
placed also bows and arrows, as was the 
usual custom. Ante-mortem choice was 
also given of a sitting or reclining pos- 
ture in burial. A marble tablet erected 
by the Slate designates the enclosure and 
bears the date of 1879. Fort Ninlgret, 
on an arm of the salt pond, bears still 
some faint trace of its ancient purpose, 
but the most definite Icnowledge one gets 
of anything remarkable in this desolate, 
thinly-settled region is from some of the 
few genuine old settlers. They will tell 
you all about the Baby Rocks, the queer 
heap of giant bowlders on the western hill- 
side, distinct even from the land of stones, 
round and overlapping, or grotesquely 
balancing against each other. Here, in 
the first and last quarters of the moon, 
were brought the hapless deformed infants 
of the tribe to be slain with savage 
butcherj', that there might be found in the 
tribe no target for a foe's taunt. Even 
at this late and un superstitious day. South 
C-ounty follis avoid the rocks in the waning 
moon, for they say the wails and cries 



CEARLE8T0WN AND MATUNUCK. 



55 



are heard there still. Crowning Rock, 
or Coronation Rock, Is the seat of the 
ancient coronation ceremony, and has also 
a State tablet Inserted to that effect. 
By Chockampaug pond stands also the 
Indian school house, with the original 
room kept sacredly with all Its disused 
paraphernalia. One of the eld historic 
houses has heen made over by a Newport 
club ; It Is a plain house with low and 
sloping roof and broad piazzas, and has 
witnessed much good cheer within, when 
the silent woods resound with the crack 
of the gun, and the abandoned " shore 
right" is resumed with rod and line. 
Until within 40 years, an old rule existed 
granting this so-called shore right to the 
remaining Indians— the privilege of a cer- 
tain number of rods along shore with the 
right to camp and flsh ; then for weeks at 
a time tents and shanties would dot the 
beach and there would be a season of In- 
dustry. But now all that > is changed ; 
there are few distinctive features main- 
tained anywhere in Charlestown, and no 
special camp, and scarcely a typical Indian 
to be found on the coast. Uncle Gideon 



Ammcns, whose career was given at 
length some time ago in the Journal, 
Is probably the most Interesting figure In 
modern Narragansett history, and Daniel 
Moody, the most thoroughly Indian look- 
ing. Joe Dent is another, and has one of 
the two remarkable old wagon hospitals 
that impart a suggestion of departed live- 
liness to forsaken Charlestown. In the 
tall weeds of the stone wall enclosure 
are leisurely decaying all manner of obso- 
lete wheeled vehicles, from stage coach 
to spring wagon. It strUfes one as the 
" port of missing ships" struck the mariner, 
and only emphasizes the general forlorn- 
ness. The noble red men are few and 
far to find, but in their inmost fastnesses 
far in the hubbly cart-roads there are 
said to be a few degenerate In shanties 
and dug-outs. The little gray time-worn 
huts were the favorite architecture, how- 
ever, till we turned back to the delights 
of the new road, and saw again with joy 
the cheerful paint and bold mural de- 
signs of more aspiring South County 
civilization, and left the strange gray hills 
behind. 



CONANICUT ISLAND, CONANICUT PARK AND 
JAriESTOWN. 



[Conanlcut Park, by Newport steamer from Providence, 
ferry from Newport or Narragansett t'erry.] 



Fare, 60 cents round trip. Jamestown, by 



AS the one boat wliicli deigns to pause 
at Conanicut Park sweeps in at 
the dock, a scent of bayberry from 
the wild slopes is first lo welcome one. 
Next is the one hotel carriage, as one dis- 
embarks and the boat speeds down to New- 
port. It is well that the hotel is pleas- 
ant and well managed, for it is " Hob- 
son's Choice ;" but it is perched ixiviting- 
ly among the old trees up the slope, a 
pretty bit of color with its light gray 
•walls and red turrets, and its pillared 
veranda green and shady with masses of 
woodbine. 

Conanicut Park is emphatically a place 
of rest ; its diversions, though many, are 
of the mildest, its dissipations none. Its 
six mUe length and one mile width have 
all the wayside delights of upland and 
ocean. Wild rose and Iris, bayberry and 
elder-bloom crowd the northern meadow, 
and by and by a harvest of berries can be 
had for the gathering. Conanicut Island 
light, on the northeast shore, is a spot 
weU worth a visit, aside from the \dews 
to be gamed from the lighthouse tower. 
Mr. H. W. Arnold, the keeper, a graduate 
from the Warwick Neck light, is the hero 
of the Conimicut Light disaster a few years 
ago— the victim of the ice-flood. He lias 
been in charge here for five years and 
achieved the most admirable results. The 
yard of the pretty gray cottage from which 
the tower rises was then like the wilder- 
ness without a .iungle of wild growth; it 
Is now a neatly shaven velvet sward, 
dotted with flowers, and with tlie finest 
bed of nasturtiums possible to find in a 
long day's journey, shading through yellow 



from white and palest straw color to deep- 
est crimson. Over the entire front of the 
house runs a great honeysuckle, a Ira- 
grant mass of yellow and white, and an 
uncommonly aspiring jessamine has ceased 
to become a shrub and run away up to the 
high eavesi and the light tower. 

The grounds about the hotel, and even, 
down to the water's edge are also re- 
claimed from their not unlovely wildness, 
and form the real " park" which names 
the place. The station erected by the 
steamboat company, but sitting serenely- 
above the bustle of the dock, is a pretty 
feature of the place, and the few quiet 
cottages are in excellent taste, that of 
Miss Jennie Lippitt, with grounds sloping 
to the water, being noticeably inviting, 
and above it. also near the wild rocky 
shore, Charles Fletcher's spacious cottage, 
most imposing of all, with its round tower, 
clustering verandas and handsome lawns, 
closed in by a dense hedge of evergreen 
from the too wild blasts of the east wind. 
It has been tlie custom in past years for 
a party of gay girls, chaperoned by some 
not over-severe matron, to take possession 
of a Conanicut cottage for The summer, 
and have their fill of innocent and h(!althy 
fiui. It would be hard to say how many 
charming girls have learnt proficiency in 
swimming by a Conanicut season, stimu- 
lated by criticism and rivalry, and en- 
couraged by calm waters. Theii- only 
plaint is, amid the eulogies of beloved 
Conanicut, that " you can't spend anything 
there." Papa has neither to forward oc- 
casional checks during the daughter's stay, 
nor to settle sundry later and appalling 



CONANICUT PABK AND JAMESTOWN. 



57 



bills. Conanicut has no store, no liazaar, 
not even an Indian tent and accompany- 
ing basket wort. One cannot buy even 
a stamp there, for addresses read thus : 
'■ Miss Blank, Conanicut Hotel, Conanicut 
Park, Newport, R. I." It is possible to 
nin up a bill only with Mrs. Brown and 
the stable keeper, Mr. Paine. ITie stable 
is the one public luxury, and Mr. Paine 
furnishes saddle horses and varioiis vehi- 
cles and drives the stranger all about 
the Island, furnishing information and 
prancing steeds at the same time at most 
modest prices. 



with huge, gnarled trunks, where the sun 
and shade frolic in the breezes that blow- 
up from the salt waves, lapping the recks 
almost jat its foot. In a hollowed stone 
by the old well, the birds drinl?: and bathe 
in a tmy pool, and t^vitter perpetually. 
This is Seaside Ck)ttage, and a ^vinding 
concrete walk leads down to the " chil- 
dren's cottage," under the same jurisdic- 
tion, but where the mothers with little 
folk abide, that the nervous and Invalid 
be not disturbed at the larger house — a 
thoughtful provision which w,e would com- 
mend to the attention of hotel keepers 




CONAKIOUT PARK HOTEL. 



But the most notable and most praise- 
worthy feature of the place Is the insti- 
tution known as " Seaside Cottage, " es- 
tablished now for fourteen years by the 
I'rovidence Fountain Street Society— the 
admirable arrangement by which tired, ill 
or not over-wealthy city women and chil- 
dren may have a week or two of change 
and absolute rest at the small sum' of $^3 
per week. Mrs. Wright, the matron, has 
charge for the fourth season, and her do- 
main is a most delightful one. Picture a 
quaint, low, old-fashioned gray faimhoiire, 
with deep well and Hat door stones, en- 
larg,ed by ell and verandas, and nestled 
in the heart of a quiet old apple orchard, 



generally. Mrs. Wlnte is assistant matron 
here. There are times 'when the matron 
has been called upon to entertain ninety in 
her entire fold. 

Mrs. Wright was sans cook on the oc- 
casion of our visit, and we found the wor- 
thy lady busUy engaged In spearing dump- 
lings from a literal boiling sea. Their 
odor was most appetizing, but we had 
been taught not to ask for food in a 
stranger's house, and refrained. Mrs. 
Wright showed us the mammoth great 
range recently acquired, with mmgled 
pride and despondency ; for though an .in- 
dispensable, it is not yet paid for. Our 
errand was haijled with joy, for the ma- 



58 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



tron nssured us that the place "was sel- 
dom "written up" •without some kind re- 
sponse In the form of a much-needed 
check ; and hopes were high tliat a similar 
demonstration might follow our coming, 
and settle the range difficulty, and also the 
still mor.'j vexed water question ; for the 
old well, though mightily picturesc[ue, is 
not practical, and Mrs. Wright lamented 
in almost Sci-lptural phrasing that hor 
five handmaidens had notliing wherewilh 
to draw, and the well was deep. With 
these two ohstacles removed, life would 
go on smoothly at Seaside Cottage ; and 
surely aid is worthily bestowed on a so- 
ciety whose "managers themselves devote 
days to menial toil of the severest with 
their own hands when it is needed. Of 
the good that is done the matron speaks 
in unstinted measure. " The girl clerks 
and telegraph operators and hard-worked 
mothers who come here are dead tired- 
out and out," she says: "They have no 
appetite, no strength, no color at first, 
and it does my heart good to see them 
improve as they breathe the fresh air, 
and wallc, and hathe, or just do nothing. 
It is only a little run down to the shore 
and the bathing beach through the or- 
chard, and by the red gate— and there at 
one side you can see Mr. Vose's cottage, 
S. M. Vose of Pro^'idence. Good by, and 
I shall hope so much that something will 
come of your ^^sit, and I am sure it will." 
Jlay we hope for response in some reader 
to wliom a check means so Jittle, while 
the good it may do may mean so much. 
Delightful as Conanicut is, it is not 
wholly pleasant to know that one cannot 
leave It when one is so disposed. The 
captain, the ticket agent and tiie start/?r 
all assured us that ferry boats to Wick- 
ford and Newport touched at the Park, 
but they do not. The morning boat from 
Providence, and her five o'clock return are 
the only landings, and the natives say 
the ferry boats liave not paiLS«Hl for 
weeks. The Eolus waxed wroth slnoe her 
encounter with the Day Star, and has 
concluded to let .the latter vessol have 
her own way, it would seem. Wliat she 
might do if one were to stand at the 
dock's edge in a commanding attitude and 
beckon in broad capitals, we cannot say, 



but just now a petition Is circulating thafc 
the two o'clock city-bound boat may stop 
there, as it ought. 

To leave Conanicut otherwise meant to 
enter Jamestown, and Mr. Palne's chario- 
teer conducted us away from the quiet 
north end of the islaud to the tumult of 
tlie south ; past Seaside Cottage again, and 
the bit of an old graveyard where lie the 
bones of that dead and gone habitant 
Paine, over whom neighborhood gossip Is 
just now exciting itself to settle whether 
he was in truth, as a revived tale has put 
it, a murdering, bloody pirate or a highly 
respected citizen and an ornament to the 
community. Past the old, old windmill, 
150 years old, with its huge great arms, 
its revtlving cap and Its still staunch 
body, which yet earns its living like 
younger windmills, up the long slant of 
Freebody's Hill, the way adorned with 
youthful turkeylets roosting melancholy 
on the fence-tops ; in sight of stately New- 
port and the white-win g«d fleet always 
hovering in the harbor, p.ist the ChampUn 
House and Its opposite neighbor, the Bay 
Voyage, thus oddly named to commemo- 
rate its own trip across seas, and down 
at length into hustling Jamestown, lively 
already as in midsummer time, tl;e Im- 
posing front of the gray and red Bay 
View blocking the way, and the docks be- 
low, bristling with sailboats and lesser 
craft, and the towering hulk of the ferry- 
boat Conanicut, swinging in from New- 
port. General bustle is in the air ; and so 
is the Philadelphia and St. Louis accent, 
for these two cities populate the most of 
this growing summer town. 

A long-standing mystery Is solved. Now 
we know what becomes of all the boys 
and girls through the summer- they are at 
Jamestown. Ne\vport claims the beaux, 
the Pier the belles and babies. Block Is- 
land the men and Watch Hill the nice old 
ladles— the silver-haired Aunt Serenas : but 
everywhere has there seemed sad lack of 
real genuine boys and girls till we landed 
at the Jamestown wharf, and there they 
all were, as if the Hamelln piper had 
piped them all over the ferry from New- 
port. It is small wonder a new hotel has 
gone tip since last season, and cottages 
without end, and that the sotind of the 



CONANICUT PARK AND JAMESTOWN. 



59 



plane and hammer Is still heard, in the 
land. Jamestown Is of a growth as rapid 
as any of the mushToom towns of the 
West. Six years ago, an old resident says, 
standing at the dock and looking into 
what is now the heart of the place, there 
there were hut eight houses to be counted 
—old settlers all, and readUy to be distin- 
guished now from their more modern 
neighhors, from the wee black hoyel, with. 
Its lone pine tree near the landing, to the 
fine old Curry place, a bit up the north 
shore road, with its remarkable apple or- 
chard that should have its home In the 
" Garden of the Gods," so weird, uncanny 
and gnarled are its giant, sprawling Umbs 
before feathering Into soft foliage. 




CHAKLBS FLETCECEIE'S. 

" Smith's" is another of the old places, 
transformed now into a (lualnt, gray Eng- 
lish Inn by the addition of an ell thrice 
Its own size, and looking like a younger 
sister of Greene's Inn at the Pier. The 
houses that are not hotels are boarding 
houses unless they are cottages, and if 
they are cottages they take lodgers with 
few exceptions. It is the liveliest place 
south of the daily shore resorts. To sit 
at one's window of an evening, albeit it 
is pretty well up in a crowded hotel 
where one is lucky to get a room at all — 
sitting here and listening to the voices of 
the night, predominant among them all is 
the confused babel of many voices Uke 
the roar of Broadway, and I do not mean 
the Broadway of Providence, deafening as 
that Is, but New York. 



" AVhat is the chief attraction of James- 
town ?" we asked an old settler. 

" Well, it's the climate and the quiet," 
he answered. "Any number of Western- 
ers come here who object to Newport and 
the Pier because they are not q.uiet.'' 

Jamestown might, like tlie proprietor of 
a certain German spa, copy his advertise- 
ment with equal propriety, which reads : 
" People in search of absolute retirement 
and quiet are flocking here from every 
quarter of the globe I" 

Of the enthusiastic younger folks we 
queried, to their raptures over its charms, 
wherein lies its loveliness ? Oh, it is so 
lively ; you can gO to Newport or Wick- 
ford or Narragansett Perry, or over to 
the Port, or down to tlie Dumplings, or— 
oh, there's no use taUdng, Jamestown is 
perfectly delightful. It would appear from 
the varied testimony that Jamestown is 
desirable chiefly for the ease with which 
one can get out of it ; but I suspect that 
a prime cause of Its popularity is its 
cheapness. There is the great gray Thorn- 
dike, with the varied view across the Bay, 
and the beautiful Bay View, most ad- 
mirably appointed, and but $2 50 a day, 
as contrasted with Narragansett Pier's $4 
and $5. For natural advantages it has 
not one-haK Conanlcut Park's number, or 
for the qualities one actually looks for In 
a place of summer rest. For all that it 
is constantly growing; Its cottages are 
mulliplylng and it has had practically 
three new hotels in a little more than a 
year. With the half dozen others, the 
many boarding places and rooms in cot- 
tages, the season here is unusually early 
and busy ; the Thorndtke is about to be- 
gin a series of afternoon concerts by a 
string band, hops are in progress, attend- 
ed with fervor and devotion; bathing is 
chief event of the day. In spite of a pebbly 
and shelly beach. 

It is refreshing to see such activity, 
though it be somewhat confusing to an 
alien not yet naturalized. The sojourn- 
ers are not dozing from 3 to 6 p. m. as a 
general thing, but are walking, driving, 
rowing, saUtng and attending tennis and 
ball games with the utmost abandon. 
The excursions on foot are by the shore 



(JO 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



road, north and south, as far as one miiy 
list ; Xar northward he may go and go 
and kjiow no ending, along the pebble 
beach, -whose pebbles, alas '. are all angles 
Instead of curves, or over the sloping hill. 
Southward, there is a "cliff walk" along 
the sea, beginning modestly enough and 
gradually rising till the way terminates 
at the rolling hills and the gray crags 
that drop into the southern sea, where 
are Conanlcut's only fine breakers, and 
where quaint little Fort Dumpling, like an 
outcropping ol the granite itself, crowns 
the gray crags, unchristened all these 
years by the flery baptism of shot and 
shell. 

From north to south the whole length 
of the island the main road runs straight 
as a die, swerving not even for the salt 
sound that penetrates far Inland, and 
broadens into a marshy pond. Beyond, it 
the gray road turns steeply upward over 
a hill on whose summit the ancient wind, 
mill oC the island, stands with the maltese 
cross of its gigantic arras sharply out- 
lined against the pale sky. Off to the 
right is the quaint and interesting old 
Wecden place, enshrined, among trees ; 
then the old Quaker meeting house, where 
the devotees were wont of yore to sol- 
emnly '• wait before the Lord"' in stately 
sili'nce, and further north still is the old- 
est house on the island. On goes the 
broad highway, bordered by blackberries 
fiercely thorn-guarded, and the waxen 
blooms of the clethra, sweetest of all 
August wild flowers, while? down in the 
marshy brooks behind the wild hedges 
stands in stately ranks the royal cardinal 
flower of the Indians. And at last a 
branch road. turiLs eastward to Conanlcut 
Park, and the traA'eller Is stayed. 

At the cross roads near Jamestown, 
•where high road meets ferry way, a south- 
west avenue loads down to the sandy bar 
that is the frail connection between east 
and west Coniinicut. Only at supremely 
high tides is this frail passway Hooded, 
and the walk or drive to western shore is 
an extremely interesting one, from Beaver 
Head on the north— though the natives 
call it Fox Ilill-to the lighlhcmse of Bea- 
ver Tail on the wild souihern sliore, 
whiro even yet the lingering spars of the 



recent wreck grasp imploringly upward 
out of water. The cross at the roads Is 
marked by a graveyard on one hand, 
where on one ancient stone is with diffi- 
culty deciphered under the veiling moss 
the name Pauline, and the date 1745 ; ou 
the other hand, the religion and morals j 
of the island are represented by an Epls- I 
copal Church and one of those wliite-faccd, 
green-eyed Baptist meeting houses, whose 
belfries are capped with suggestive spikes. 
A mile or so across the island, from 
east ferry to west ferry, runs anotlier 
highway, from Jamestown down to the 
dock, where a smaller ferry-boat, the 
Jamestown, waits to convey excursionists 
to Narragansett and back again. By Xar- 
ragansett I do not mean the Pier, often 
erroneously so called, but a wee, gray 
and ancient village directly opposite 
Jamestown on the western mainland. A ! 
grayer little place never existed. A gray | 
old buildin'g stands on the shore capped 
with a crumbling beliry, tJiat once, "be- 
fore the war," was a woolen factory; and 
the quaint little handful of gray houses 
that cluster by were once Its adjoining 
tenements; but a few fishermen occupy 
them now, and three or four long, low 
buildings at the water's edge, likewise 
gray and aged, are the fish curing houses. 
Never was there so perfect a color sym- 
phony ; gray are the wharves and the 
rotting spiles, gray tlie rail fences and 
the stone walls, and the hoary trunks of 
the few poplars ; gray the one road 
stretching giddily aloft to a steep hilltop 
behind the settlement, and gray is the 
narrow strip of slaty shore, strewn with 
shale and shells. Perched on tlie top- 
most pinnacle of this breathless ascent 
behind the hamlet is the white house of 
worship, its spire still pointing aspiringly 
upward with a mute '• Excelsior" An 
incentive to toil and progress, and a | 
type of the difficult path of right doing, It | 
is meant to be, no doubt ; but half way 
up the sheer ascent we were content to | 
pause ambitionless and breathless, and 
shamelessly retrograde to the roclcing 
ferry-boat. It is funny to watch the 
horses who make these ferry trips be- 
tween Newport and the islands ; one and 
all, Ihey remonstrate wildly, when a heavy 



CONANICUT PABK AND JAMESTOWN. 



61 



sea first sets the boat a-tilting; some of 
tliem very quickly get their " sea legs" 
on, and others stagger to and fro at each 
swell with an air of great surprise. 

Where does food come from to fill the 
small hoy sojourners ? A half-dozen after 
supper seated themselves on the piazza 
steps conveniently within earshot, and 
after discussing all things else in heaven 
and earth in that particularly knowing, 
decisive and final way admitting of no 
appeal, which is common to small boys, 
they fell to narrating their achievements 
at the supper tables. After several 
boasting lagoos had chanted their ex- 
ploits, aaid one particularly hollow and 
cadaverous youngling, " Well, I just gorged 
myself. I had baked mackerel, sirloin 



the six took themselves off enthusiasti- 
cally to try a new kind of ice cream. 

There is no prettier diversion of a sum- 
mer afternoon than to make a ferry trip 
east or west among our harbor waters and 
the many anchored vessels. Westward 
through Dutch Island harbor and past the 
peaceful island, where the Sergeant's home 
stands high among the upland trees and 
the grassy fortifications, and the southern 
point is tipped by the lighthouse of the 
white light. And oil: the mainland the 
breakers are distantly seen leaping about 
Bonnet Head, where the Rhode Island 
came to wreck, though the harbor waters 
lift the little ferry boat with only a gentle 
swell. 

Eastward the big Conanicut, plying be- 




THE irOSIE OF PIKATE PAnSTE. 



steak, chicken fricassee, and eggs^all 
sorts of eggs; I had omelette, poiched 
and hard-boiled." At this juncture the 
small boy was suddenly reminded of 
something, and, searching in his pockets, 
drew forth three hard boiled eggs, which, 
proceeding to di\ade among his comrades, 
they devoured with relish and thankful- 
ness. "I ate a good many eggs," can- 
didly continued this infant anaconda, 
"and then I had different kinds of bread 
—say, fellows, rolls and tea bL;:JCuit are 
just the same, I found when I called for 
'em— and then I had stewed and fried 
potatoes, berries and three kinds of cake. 
Oh, and two glasses of mUk— two or three. " 
A deep silence succeeded the close of 
this pleasing programme, corroborated by 
the boy who had dined opposite, and then 



tween Newport and the island, glides be- 
twetsn lorts ahd islands and lighthouses 
galore, and the small boats of the training 
ship, with her jolly young uniformed lads, 
or perhaps the white-clad crew of the big 
Norseman, their vessel's name blazoned on 
their navy caps, pull lustily across the 
ferry's pathway. 

Jamestown is not lacking for diver- 
sions, and though In her quiet waters 
there is not the delightful acquaintance of 
the surf to make, there is an equivalent 
in an opportunity for fancy swimming and 
safe rowing, of which the young folk are 
not slow to avaU themselves. The bath- 
ing beach, though small in extent, is a safe 
and pleasant one, and even a despondent 
on suicide bent would have difficulty in 
making way with himself by drowning, 



62 



PLEASANT PLACES IN BHODE ISLAND. 



so many are the sWirs and catboats hov- 
ering always about. 

A grizzly bear visited the Island during 
our slay, led by a man in Alpine guise, 
■with hoi-n and alpenstock, and called out 
the juvenile population in astonishing 
numbers. He was a bald-headed man, 
and he reversed the Scriptural legend, for 
the bear and the bald head wrestled to- 
gether on the sward, wliile the mocking 
children stood labout and scotfed un- 
scathed. A touch of dramatic interest at- 
tended this scene, when the bald head 
emerged from the combat with an ugly 
blood -stain, mark of tlie grizzly's too- warm 
embrace. The bear, a great tawny, good- 
natured looking fellow, also performed va- 
rious othei' exploits, turned a few " zoma- 
zates," as his owner announced, and 
shuiBed clumsUy ahout in a so-called dance 
to a mellow barytone song of 

"Er-room, poem, poom, poomi 
Hey-de-dlddlo-day room pa!" 



or words to that elfect. And as the owner 
presently passed around the hat we asked 
as we dropped our modest mite, for we 
Icnew the man would have to buy a good- 
sized piece of court plaster : " What Is his 
name?" and received the somewhat stag- 
gering reply of " Ziiinny 1" 

A wandering Jew pervades the island— 
tlie chair-and-ladder man of Providence. 
Did any one ever go anywhere In the 
limits of our State in the summer and not 
see him, we wonder? 

All things considered, it is little wonder 
that Jamestown is a favorite among the 
young folks, though it is not Providence 
people, but Southerners and Westerners, 
notably from St. Louis, who hie here, and 
the place is already full to overflowing. 

Everybody looks busy and happy, and 
nobody looks bored, and say what one 
may, Jamestown is the liveliest, the noi- 
siest and the most hilarious summer city on 
the Rhode Island coast. 



PRUDENCE PARK. 



[On Prudence Island, 15 miles from Providence, by Continental steamer. Fare, 60 cents round trip.] 



FOUR daughters liad the old Indian 
chief, so the legend runs, Prudence, 
Patience, Hope and Despair; names 
a triae Quakerish, perhaps, but we must 
not question the genuineness of an Indian 
tradition here on their most favored soil. 
To the favorite and fairest— Prudence — he 
gave the fair and prolific island that bears 
her name, and so on down to poor little 
Despair, who must have been an ugly lit- 
tle "nubbin" Indeed, if she was at all like 
her niggardly heritage— one low black rock 
cropping up above the salt waves north 
of Hope— the latter not at aU a bad place 
lor a summer house, as the flourishing 
farm ol Mr. Hiram Aylesworth can testify, 
lord of his isle among the tall, shivering 
poplars that scantUy clothe rocky little 
Hope in greenery. 

Prudence, In outline and substructure. 
Is a characteristic little Island; most is- 
lands are likened, in real or fancied, re- 
semblance, to some foreign object or ani- 
mal, and if Prudence looks like anything 
at aU, in its southern oval and long neck 
reaching north to Potter's Cove, It Is a 
crooked-necked squash or an attenuated 
Block Island. 

Sailors coming In from the west cannot 
fall to mark the huge rock ledges of black 
slate, lying flat and high and ceasing only 
with the sea, as if all the bad boys of 
long ago giant days had pUed their prim- 
itive slates together, and vowed to go to 
school no more. Straight eastward across 
the Island the ledge runs, tilted far higher 
toward the mainland, so that the ascend- 
ing eastward road brings one out suddeiHy 
on the opposite shore on the top of a lofty 
■eminence with a dizzy sweep down to the 
water, where Sand Point light rises white 



before the long sharp sand-dagger that 
thrusts mto the bay and Invites easy ship- 
wreck. Here in lonely calm is the little 
white cottage flying the union colors, 
the snug harbor home of another of Bris- 
tol's retired seafarers— Capt. Gladding. 

On Prudence rises a height second only 
to Mount Hope, capped by the gray build- 
ings of the old homestead of the Potter 
farm. The Potters and Chases are the old- 
est Inhabitants ; Daniel Chase is one of the 
be^t known, now an old man of 76 years, 
and with a father Daniel before him, and 
a grandfather Daniel also. When the 
grandfather, Daniel Chase, was a young 
man, with plenty of ambition and money 
also, he built down on the southeast shore 
a mansion which is standing yet, and which, 
immediately on its completion, received 
the title by scoffing and less pretentious 
farming folk of " Daniel Chase's Folly." 
The aFolly was deserted, only in 1891, 
and looks staunch enough yet, with its 
huge square brick walls, its broad, deep 
windows, and its granite foundations. But 
the floors are said to be settling. Its great 
Mtchen is twenty-five feet square, its 
stately front hall, finished in cherry, with 
a handsome stairway of solid carved wood, 
and all the floors of hai-d pine. Over- 
head in all the spacious rooms the huge, 
dark ratters show, as was then the fash- 
ion, and the Folly's buUdlng cost $25,- 
000, a neat little sum in the thrifty last 
century days. 

Fewer very old houses are found on the 
Island than one might expect, but it was, 
in the Revolution, a literal stamping ground 
for the British, and thirty prosperous and 
peaceful homesteads went up in flame and 
smoke, with all the huge old windmills 



64 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



that liberally besprinlcled Prudence from 
end to end. 

c»iu> iskiiider, returning for liis g:iin, is 
said to have been shot ; tlie rest escaped to 
mainland, and lelt the island desolate. 
Had there been an adequate historian the 
tale -would have boon sad as the " Exile 
of the Acadlans." Never again lias Pru- 
dence been so thril'tily repopulated by farm- 
ing lollv as she gave promise in pre-Revo- 
lution days, though her soil is the richest 
of all Narrugansett's islands. Tlie island's 
stone -walls are peculiar, high apd massive 
and darlv, of the flat, black slate that crops 
out aU over the soU. One house only, or 
its ruins, snr\4ves the ravages of ancient 
■war— the old mill house, northeast, by tlie 
broolv that once turned the mouldered 
water -wheel. 




A QUAINT NORMANDY MILL. 

Crossing the little wooden bridge over 
the stream one comes upon its ruins now 
among the willows where the old blind 
miller, spared by his infirmity, ground his 
grist and ended his days in peace. Not far 
from here is the old neglected grave yaVd, 
bearing dates legible beneath the encroach- 
ing gray gravestone moss as far back as 
1723. Cattle stumble about over half-liid- 
den mounds, and pumpkins and even an 



aggressive haystack declare defiance of 
death and decay. Near the cornfleld that 
nistles down by the old brick house is an- 
other little graveyard near the quiet east 
shore. In what is known as the pier 
meadow, where a score or so of islanders 
peacefully rest. To a cluster of old mounds 
tradition has long assigned Indian occu- 
pancy, and a zealous antiquarian recently 
excavated there for possible relics; a skuJl 
was indeed found, but it bore, not the 
glossy raven black tresses of true Indian 
ownership, but unmistakable African wool, 
and the explorer ceased his researches. 

The southern end of the island is peo- 
pled wholly by Albros, a family of them 
having been the last occupants of the des- 
olate Folly. Mr. Albro, the eldest, has 
spent nearly 50 years on the island. 

But for the Invading forces a century 
ago, Prudence could hardly have been ex- 
celled in interesting relics ; in fire and 
smoke went up, too, the old pin factory, 
the first in America, where pins were made 
laboriously by hand, and which were far 
more massive and skewer-like than the 
modern affair. The family of Mr. Farnum, 
a resident who has done much toward im- 
proving Prudence farms, has some of these 
pins still. 

Inland from the sloping roclcy shores 
are swamps and marshes densely over- 
grown with wild grape tangles, making 
the -whole island odorous in June as a 
great mignonette garden. It is one pro- 
cession of flowers here the season long, 
growing richly In the fertile earth and 
the humid sea air. Orioles, yellow birds 
and song sparrows people the island, and 
down in the wUd jungle of woods in tlie 
lonely south swamps great colonies of 
crows have their uncouth nests, flying 
in a vast calling and cawing crowd 
northward in the early morning to feast 
on carrion washed to the shores by Pot- 
ter's Cove ; and when the sun is on 
the verge of disappearance below the 
western land line, they flap heavily home 
again in a black discordant cloud to their 
secret haunts. 

The fields everywhere are literally black 
with blackberi'ies, for in the season half 
of them will decay unplucked ; it seems 



PRUDENCE PABK. 



65 



a pity, wlien one tMnks of the waiting 
tmngry moutlis of hundreds of our little 
folk at liome prevented by poverty from 
ever seeing a growing berry. 

So much for ancient Prudence, as it 
Is, and ever has been. The summer 
colony Is by far its most striking feature, 
with its two score of handsome cot- 
tages nestled midway of its length by the 
western shore. W. E. Barrett and Gr. 
W. Williams were the pioneers of the 
movement that led to the present Park 
Association. It was eighteen years ago 
that they built their imposing cottages, 
not far apart, and the only white ones on 
the island, Mr. Barrett's with red roofs 
and pointed' spire, Mr. Williams's with 
a round tower and pale green roof with 
the tint of new shingles, and the enclosed 
pavilion in cherry finish that looks every 
way at once with its breezy windows. 
A sloping lawn is gay with swings, sum- 
mer house and tennis court, and on the 
rougher slopes by the water's edge 
browses the children's pet. Jack the don- 
key, quite the reverse of him of the sup- 
posititious ballad, and with any amount 
of "go," Mr. Barrett's grounds are gay 
with flower beds^-tpetunias of unusual 
beauty. 

It was about four years alter the ex- 
tensive land purchases of*these two gen- 
tlemen that cottages began to go up, 
but the residents are enthusiastic in 
praises of Prudenoe, and every, precaution 
is taken to Insure only harmonious new- 
comers. There is neither existing nor 
desired inducement to excursionists, ex- 
cept those who come to visit friends or 
enjoy pure nature. 

] A social nucleus is found In the re- 
cently erected Casino, the gift of Charles 
H. Perkins, who, with his large family 
and numerous cottages and farm, oc- 
5 



cupies about 400 acres of the Park land. 
The Casino is a double structure, one side 
being devoted to a bowling alley, pool 
and billiard tables, and the other, which 
can be made entirely separate, to the 
dance hall, gayly decorated with Mikado 
designs, and used at, the weekly Wednes- 
day hops, quite a dress occasion, and 
with a permanent orchestra of three 
pieces. Service lis held here Sundays, 
and Sunday school as well, for there are 
lots of little folks among the cottagers, 
the door opening to secular 'amusements 
being religiously closed. 

R. B. Little has a handsome red house 
with dark green trimmings, and a unique 
roof balcony, a huge square port hole 
through which passing mariners may view 
the blue heavens beyond. This is called 
the "Crow's Nest," and is accessible by 
an inner stair. Other cottagers are 
Ornando Vose, Mrs. P. H. HoUister of 
Greenfield, R. B. Clark of Washington, 
whose pretty home north of the bathing 
beach is furnished wholly with antiques, 
Mrs. .GoodaU of Washington, Mr. Fred 
Perkins, Dr. G. T. Swarts, W. C. Wood of 
Washington. 

On the west shore lie only the neat 
bathing houses, and the stone-pillared 
pavilion where sweet babies and their 
bonnes assemble daily. Shady lake, full 
of springs, furnishes ice ; the nightly 
boat brings ,the maU, the supplies and 
the masculine element; fishing is fine 
from the rocks ; a new roa-d by the town 
has just been laid east ,and west, and 
another is hoped for in place of the old 
north and south driveway. Insomnia 
is unknown, and lUness and death have 
never been known among the cottagers 
untU the summer when Mr. Barrett's 
death cast the first gloom over (the 
island. 



I 



BRISTOL FERRY. 



[Twenty miles from rrovidence, on Khoile Island. Hotel and Locust Cottage, Mrs. Kate Burnop, $7 
to jJlO a week.] 



THERE are three ways of reaching 
Bristol Perry from Providence: 
One by rail on the Old Colony, via 
Fall River and Tiverton ; one hy the 5 p. 
m. Fall River boat, touching here, and 
one by boat to Newport and a qiiiclv run 
up in the train— the price about the same. 
Our way was a fourth one — by steamer to 
Newport from Narragansett Pier, then up 
the island. It was a novel experience to 
cross so hea\^ a sea in so dense fog. The 
little Caswell seemed to float lu a little 
halo of her own, surrounded by a fog 
banlv thick enough to slice, which we were 
forever approaching ond never quite 
touching. Two men were lookouts down 
in the bows, where tliey got more than a 
mUd spatter of spray with 'each lurch, 
and signalized tlie approach of each ves- 
sel by an extended rigid forefinger, till 
the captain, further back in the fog, 
like'wlse belield and shifted his course. 
These men must have had eyes created to 
see in a fog, as bats have for darkness, 
for we strained our eyes to see, and it 
was always many seconds before even the 
palest gray ghost of a sail came slipping 
out of the mist, not to materialize, but to 
remain a ghost still, only a shade darker 
than the cloud into which it slipped 
again. Fog horns boomed and bell buoys 
rang wildly. Whale Rock's warning peal- 
ing after us for miles, and our own boat 
shrieked back continually. It was start- 
ling to hear a deep frenzied bellow shat- 
tering the mist close olf to our left, like 
an angry cow bereft of her offspring, and 
still to see nothing and know it was Bea- 
ver Tail's call, where the surges were 
roaring. The waves were not mountain 
high, but they would have petrified into 
very respectable hUls, and what space 



of water was visible looked like an up- 
land country, undt-rgotng a transformation 
scene. Within a stone's throw a bell 
buoy writhed and struggled, and raised its 
huge bulk out of water, looldng anything 
but the llat raft it seemed in a calm. The 
sudden lull that at last came upon lis, 
and the sight of a lone and bewildered 
bumble bee, told us, as the twigs and ber- 
ries did Columbus, that we were nearing 
land, and, at last, damp and dizzy, we 
slid in at the dock, and hastened down old 
Newport's worn pavings to the Old Colony 
station. 

The railroad trip along Rhode Island 
(and by this is meant the island. Alas 
lor our queer naming!) looks just as it 
does on the map ; the railroad runs as de- 
lightfully near the west shore as it is pic- 
tured, and soon we left the fog behind us. 
Bits of island peeped up at the left, the 
Sisters, and Bishop Rock and Dyer's 
I.sland, and by and by the distant shores 
of Prudence. On the right was always a 
long stretch of green, bare countrj', yel- 
lowing in the summer sun-heat ; long lines 
of stone wall and distant haystacks rep- 
resenting the only eminences. Now and 
then a flock of sheep or pasturing horses 
lied from our rattling progress; once two 
small boys suddenly rose up out of thjs 
water and waved their arms with start- 
ling effect, and at last we halted at Jlid- 
dletown, announced in energetic tones. 
This sounded enterprising, but where was 
the town, the station even? Off to the 
right stretched the same barren walled 
pastures, off to the left the sea. A soli- 
tary passenger left us, still hopeful of 
Middletown's existence, and we sped on. 
Port'Smouth G-rove next; ah, this is more 
hopeful. Giant oaks In abundance to give 



BRISTOL FEBBY. 



67 



the place name, a half dozen houses, and 
white tents gleaming through shrubhery, 
down on the rocks near shore. The in- 
land country changed now as we sped 
north, and the bare stone walls were 
draped with shrubs and vines, and trees 
grew thickly and distant farms appeared, 
corn fields and potato fields— and Coal 
Mines was the next place, wearing an air 
of depression, but sitting amid pleasant 
scenery in spite of the hill of slate and 
coal dust that lay beyond the black build- 
ings. Now the main land loomed ahead; 
Bristol Ferry light beckoned across the 
channel, and we stepped out at Bristol 



posts. Scenting an interesting item, on 
"Electric Freaks at Bristol Ferry," we 
asked in tones of lively interest, "Oh, do 
j'ou have to use those insulators on your 
chair?" Snuling a quiet smile the agent 
replied, "No, only to make the legs 
longer." 

The one hotel here is a big, white, airy 
structure, tempered with green blinds and 
surrounded by broad piazzas, even up to 
the third story. In its cool settlag of 
great poplar trees, with neatly white- 
washed trunks, it looked somehow like 
pictures of old-fashioned "young ladies' 
seminaries." 




::^^^iS-.i<* 



"BOOTHDEN." 



Ferry, while the train whisked" around a 
curve to cross Stone Bridge and arrive at 
Tiverton, on the mainland. 

Bristol Ferry is admli-ably arranged for 
stormy weather, we thought, as we stood 
and looked about. There were the hotel, 
the wharf, the store, the neighbors' cot- 
tages, the station, the telegraph office and 
the post office, all within a stone's throw 
of each other— and plenty of stones with 
which to test the fact. It was in the 
telegraph office that we first distinguished 
ourselves, on spying the operator's seat, 
an ordinary chair, but set in four of the 
gi'een glass insulators used on telegraph 



The house looks large enough to ac- 
commodate twice its stated limit— fifty. 
However, the ground floor is taken up 
mainly with large parlors, and a long 
dining hall; about thirty is the usual 
number, all the proprietor cares to en- 
tertain. 

RiAV boats are let by the hotel, and 
it is but three-fourths of a mUe to the 
main land at Bristol Ferry light, where 
is the cosy pld larm-house of Capt. West, 
one of Bristol's retii-ed seamen, and at 
which, when passing on the Sakonnet 
boat, I have always felt a wDd desire to 
get out and stay all summer. It is but 



68 



PLEASANT PLACES IN ERODE ISLAND. 



tvro miles to Tiverton, and ten to New- 
port, tlie broad liigliway leading straight as 
a die doAvn the Island. Therefore the 
quiet little place is far from isolated, and 
Its scenery and air are delightful. There 
are plenty of trees, shruhs and wLid ber- 
ries ; there are ample, flom-isMng farms, 
and a most enormous number of pear trees, 
heavily laden. The few cottages in the 
place are everyone picturesctue and in 
good taste, and are occupied variously by 
Edward Hicks, Oliver Hicks, E. I. Stod- 
dard, Cross, Devol, Sisson and Alanson 
Peckham. The home of the latter stands 
in. the midst of a farm and fruit or- 
chard, with large and shaded grounds, 
and Its long piazza is one mass of wood- 
bine. 

The prettiest place of all is Locust 
cottage, with, as is not usual, an easily 
oMaous reason for the name. It is a 
picturesque gray gabled cottage, up which 
sweet honeysuckle and pui"ple clematis 
twine, peeping in at its odd-shaped win- 
dows, and it is an ideal boarding place. 
It accommodates fifteen guests. It is 
managed by a trig little New York woman, 
Mrs. Burnop, with four bright children, 
one of whom did the honors of the house 
with as hospitable urbanity as if slie had. 
been twice her age. Its furnishings are 
dainty and cosy in the extreme, its rooms 
large and handsomely furnished, and itp 
guests, Boston people, are enthusiastic in 
its praise and of Bristol Ferry generally, 
and assert that it is incrediblei when one 
can live in this beautiful homelike nook 
at prices between $7 and $10 a week, how 



Jamestown or Narragansett Pier can still 
be preferred. There are three summer 
cottages south of the station, occupied by 
Taunton people, and all the sojourners 
wear a triumphant air and consider that 
they have an immense advantage over 
boarders elsewhere. In our walk inland 
we met but one stroller— a pretty young 
girl with easel and paint box. 

A few hilarious small boys went bath- i 
ing at noon, and we heard their shrill 
voices joyously making plans for the af- 
ternoon. There is a small bit of smooth 
bathing beach, elsewhere it is stony and 
rough ; and stranded all along are great 
gray stubs of trees, drifted from some far 
shore with a high tide and gale. 

The one store sits down on the wharf 
in. a big gray buUding, origlually Intended 
for a store-house, though used as a store 
for half a century. E. I. Stoddard has 
been for seven years proprietor, and 
among its miscellaneous supplies we can 
testify to the excellence of home-made 
hop beer. In the window is a startling 
appearance, looking like a big red face 
with mouth wide open, but on nearer view 
it resolves itself into a portrait of a can 
of Cleveland's baking powder. 

Altogether, Bristol Ferry is a quiet, 
restful, dreamy old place, added to our 
growing list of ideal summer homes. There 
is little doubt that the palmy days of 
the whole island, outside Newport, are 
yet to come, and there are mauy charm- 
ing spots along its lonely length that a 
few years will see converted into typical ; 
seaside homes. I 



BRISTOL NECK. 



[Bristol, 12 miles from Providence, by Providence, Warren and Bristol KaiLroad. Forty minutes 
ride. Fare, 40 cents. Carriage to Bristol Neck, two miles.] 



T 



'HE train had borne us soutli to Bris- 
tol, but the carriage that was to 
convey us thence across the Neck 
took us back northward lor a little space 
over the stately, broad, hard highway 
leading up to Warren before we branched 
eastward toward Mount Hope Bay. Fring- 
ed heavily with the leafage of huge wil- 
lows, the fair highway receded into dis- 
tance like a green tunnel, and evei-y 
bendlQg tree we passed was a picture, 
soft touches of olive la its leathery yeUow 
green, and its knotted, dark trunks out- 
lined with the rich green moss of age. The 
huge stone wall to the right bounded the 
grounds of the hospitable Paul mansion, 
and was buUt by an old-time local celeb- 
rity, whose home was on the island, and 
who, having taken the somewhat eccentric 
oath never to enter a boat or ride in a 
carriage, came to the scene of his labors 
by this rather roundabout route : From 
Bristol Ferry across Stone Bridge, from 
Tiverton around the bay to Warren, and 
south to Bristol, arriving at the trip's 
terminus with his tools in a wheelbar- 
row, which he was said to have propelled 
all the way from the island. This reso- 
lute old gentleman is said to have later 
transported hlis wife here also by the 
same means and in the same vehicle. At 
any rate, the old wall behind the line of 
wUlows still stands to prove Ms sometime 
existence. 

Turning presently eastward, the way 
led between gray old pastures, where cows 
were leisurely browsing, and goldenrod 
gladdened the roadside like the sun, sulk- 
ing just now behind clouds of fog. The 
most golden of golden rod in the State, 
It seems, Is this that blooms In the pleas- 



ant country places about old Bristol ; and 
a veritable garden of wUd bloom was the 
swamp that lay just beyond, and through 
which the road passed, its generous divid- 
ing walls gi^'ing a sixty feet roadway, 
though greenly grown up with mauraudlng 
weeds and vines that flauntingly declared 
that 

"Stone walls do not a prison maJie." 

Jewel weed, yellow primrose, wUd ar- 
nica, clethra, the .fantastic button balls, 
clematis, passe but beautiful, elder bushes 




BRISTOL'S OLDEST. 

bending with their purple black burden of 
fruit, everywhere the regal golden rod and 
here and there In a muddy hollow or bed 
of a wee brooklet, the flame of the stately 
royal cardinal, a true child of the forest. 
The swamp passed, a salt breath borne on 
the east wind gently bespoke Mount Hope 
Bay's presence before us, and a declivity 
led seaward, capped by the i pleasant 
homesteads of the Bowlers, Fames and of 
Lorin Coggeshall, to whom belonged the 
two or three scattered white summer cot- 
tages almost at the water's edge; one of 



I 



70 



PLEASANT PLACES IN EIIODE ISLAND. 



them has toeen occupied hy the family of 
William H. Dyer since Its huildlng; he has 
summered at Little's Narrows for 19 years. 
The few sojourners on tliis lonely shore 
have chosen their summer homes well, for 
It is a spot unique for scenery on our 
coast. On the east side of the Neck as it 
Is, it of course looks east across Mount 
Hope Bay, and one has to keep his local 
geography well in mind to reconcile the 
two facts that he Is on the eastern side of 
Narragansett Bay, and yet when he faces 



Ihuuing ohlong that meant a Fall Kiver 
factory simlit. Guests of the Narrows' 
sojourners are always taken to the local 
" Sunset Kock" for the sight. 

Looking north, where Mount Hope Bay 
cease.i, between here and Fall River 
Btretch one after another the four long 
sand points that mark the several mouths 
of the toui" rivers that empty in close 
parallels into the salt bay— Kickemult, 
Cole's, Lee and Taunton. The Kicke- 
muit is nearest, and its west shores rise 







y-^ \':..- 



THE COLT AlAX 
the water, south is on his right hand and 
north on his left. It is for a time cool- 
fusing to see the sun rise over the water 
till the contour of this hay's area is clear. 
Fall River lies directly opposite this small 
colony, and on clear days is mapped out 
with sui-prising distinctness ; when the 
sun goes down in r(>d splendor it is a sight 
to see the huge mUls over there crimson 
in the glow and flash Are from all tlietr 
myriad windows— beacons of flame for 
many a mile on land and sea. Standing 
on one of th(> Lime Rock heights far north 
in Lincoln, I have seen more than once a 



SION, BRISTOL, 
to a series of rolling. wUd blutfs, with 
nestling ponds in hollows behind them, 
and the more distant hill dotted with 
the wef! white dwellings of a flourishing 
colony indeed— the chicken farm of Mr. 
William Thayer. Down beyond. In a 
picturesque cluster of trees and brown 
roofs, is the estabUshment of Mr. Bourne, 
the oyslerman, and between it and Provi- 
dence daily plies the little gray and green 
Klckemuit, sending a cheery salute as she 
speeds by, to the saluting cottagers, who 
make much of the one passing craft. 
Far out on the water, midway from shore 



BRISTOL NECK. 



71 



to shore, Is the long, low line of Spar 
Island, indicated impartially on maps as 
Spar and Sparrow. A deceptive little 
island, sometimes a seeming stone's throw 
from shore, but reaUy mocking any hut a 
strong pair of arms at the oars, and again 
retreating wholly behind the low-lying fog 
banks, on days when there is no Tall 
River, but only a wide, gray ocean re- 
treating to a dim, gray horizon. The 
southern walk along these shores, down 
toward Mount Hope itself, is most inter- 
esting. Among mounds of scallop shells, 
great and small, lie at the water's edge 
huge pudding-stone bowlders, pale green 
and gray above, dark brown below where 
the waves have smitten, and by and by 
the tumble of rocks grows denser, and 
those who Imow lead the way in triumpli 
to a broad. Hat rock Of dark graywacke, 
washed even in the mildest calm with the 
lapping eastern waters, and point out the 
famous Noreeman's Rock. Still legible to 
the practised eye are the row of strange 
characters, ten, perhaps, in all, and above 
them the outlines of a canoe. They have 
often been copied and photographed, and 
controversy is still rife concerning their 
genuineness, as at is of those on Dighton 
rock, far up the Taunton river above. 
If they are genuine Scandinavian charac- 
ters, there seems no real reason why we 
may not trustfully picture the ancient 
craft voyaging wonderingly along our 
strange new land, and pausing here and 
farther north to carve a memento on these 
scattered rocks so tempting that even the 
schoolboys of our own generation have also 
left specimens of rude art on this and other 
stones along the region. 

Quite near Norseman's Rock is the her- 
mit of the Neck, whose home for eighteen 
years has been in a black, tarpaulin-cov- 
ered, one-room shanty down by the shore, 
about eight by twelve feet, and its one 
door so low that one enters with an in- 
voluntary obeisance. " Daddy Booth" is 
the familiar name by which this eccentric 
old gentleman is known— for he has grown 
old in his voluntary exUe — and Daddy 
Booth was at home as we passed by on 
our return from Norseman's Rock ; and, 
with the interviewing impulse too strong 
ti be resisted, one of us crawled within 



the dusky wigwam and engaged the her- 
mit in amicable converse, while the rest 
of the iiarty waited without in ill-con- 
cealed n.irth. Daddy Booth's real name 
was Leonard, he informed his guest, as 
she sat perched upon the woodpile that 
graced the apartment, while, he fed the 
new-bmlded fire in the small rusty stove 
and prepared for his simple evening meal. 
His old hC'me was in Pawtucket, but he 
didn't get along with his folks, he ex- 
plained with a genial smUe, so he came 
down here to live. Oh, he enjoyed it 
here first rate— dug clams and sold, and 
read and went fishing. All he needed, he 
gallantly remarked, in deference to his 
callers, was a lady to look after the house- 
work. 

The little hat was not indeed in so bad 
trim as one might suppose, though the 
simple cot that took up half Its space 
looked not over inviting. The old her- 
mit himself was a taU, upright old man, 
with flowing white locks, smooth face, and 
an exiiroFsion of genial, shrewd sim- 
plicity. His accent bespoke Mm an 
Englishman, and he found a bond of sym- 
pathy at once with his uninvited guest 
in the fact that he was peeling mush- 
rooms preparatory to a 'stew, while the 
uninvited one also carried a kerchief full, 
plucked from the white dotted meadows. 
Unlike most hermits, this old getitleman 
does not shun human kind except in his 
eccentric preference for a solitary' and 
primitive abode. Strangely enough, he 
had a successor on this very shore, Ike 
Simmons, now some years dead, rwho also 
occupied a lonely hut on the bowlder- 
strewn beach for many years, tin he wag 
one day found lying dead in the woods 
near by. 

A short wallc southward, the beautiful 
home for invalids in Dr. Canfield's care 
lilted its red walls among the clustering 
grove that caps its lawns ; .ind almost in 
the same grounds, but nearer the waters' 
edge, is the summer residence of his 
brother, soft gray among the gi'ay walls 
and rocks. An odd little octagonal bath- 
ing house perches on a high rock before 
It, and leads down to the quiet water. 
L'athlng in Mount Hope bay almost In- 
evitably leads also to swimming, among 



72 



PLEASANT PLACES IN liUODE ISLAND. 



Its devotees, unhampeed by tlie lear of 
Invading breaker or undertow ; the con- 
stant vaves sound only with a gentle 
lap-lapijing, night and day, except In the 
transitory surf borne by the passing of 
the great Fall Kiver steamers from their 
distant port 

In the tangled -woods back of the slight 
bluJt's that border the western tehores 
stands a huge tree split from top to bot- 
tom straight through its heart by a light- 
ning bolt ; one side is bare and dead, and 
the other forlornly strives to assort itself 
still. Along the blutts by the Kickemuit 
river were once unearthed far below the 
earth's surface, enormous 'masses of clam 
shells along with a skeleton or two of 
unmistakable Indian origin ; and if the 
most ardent antiquarian of the place, 
Lorin Coggshall, be inter^^ewed, he will 



highways! The Soldiers' Home has so 
often been described and illustrated that 
it needs nothing further in that line, but 
it was a novelty to stroll through Its 
scattered buildings, to Inspect the laundry, 
the kitchen and the reading room where 
a score or so disabled veterans were as- 
simUa'ting the day's news from Provi- 
dence papers. The new Home gets a 
good many visitors, and they must be 
welcome, for it is an idle life that most 
of the half hundred residents lead— a few 
being employed on the regular duties of 
the place, but most of them having but 
one imperative duty in the whole long 
day, the maldng of the red-counterpaned 
bed in the long dormitory ; and the long 
receding lines show the soldiei-s' handi- 
work performed with military exactness. 
Of course most of the inmates of this 




THE SOLDIERS' HOME. 



■whUe away an hour or so very agreeably 
In arguing for the old Narragansett's 
occupancy of this spot. Instead of the 
generally accepted Mount Hope, stretch- 
ing its long green length along to the 
southeast. Certainly, some ancient tribes 
must liave put in a considerable portion of 
time here to have made way with the 
contents of that prodigious accumulation 
of longlmiied clam shells. Mount Hope 
might have been merely the " Sunset 
Rock" of the appreciative King Philip, and 
Little's Narrows his domestic department. 
Having exhausted all the walks and 
drives practicable along this shore, there 
was yet time lor a call at the Soldiers' 
Home, and the approach to this was by 
yet another road, with the oldest of old 
houses resting cosily in the shade of the 
hoary old trees that border all old Bristol's 



pleasant shelter are incapacitated for ac- 
tive duty, but to some of them some slight 
familiar labor would be eagerly welcome. 
Covered walks stretch from building to 
building, so that these venerable " boys 
In blue" can take their airing in rain or 
shine, a welcome diversion. 

The hospital is separate from the other 
buildings, and here, in solitary quiet, sat 
two old gentlemen, feeble and Infirm, with 
only the attendants' presence for diver- 
sion the livelong day. One of them fur- 
tively wiped away tears as we entered. 
Poor old man ! our sympathizing thoughts 
went back to the day when these lonely 
two went marching away, eager and 
young, to the beat of the drum and flutter 
of the flag, to delend our country. Wel- 
come as Ls the acknowledgment it Ls mak- 
ing to-day, in these sheltering walls, it 



BRISTOL NECK. 



73 



Is all too slight, it seemed to us, pitying, 
the uilirmities contracted, in the gallant 
aid to make our land what it is. Reli- 
gious services are given by various Bristol 
denominations, and I am sure nothing 
could he more welcome than an evening's 
entertainment now and then from that and 
other sources, through the week. 

We climhed to the top of the high water 
tower, and saw where the bay ran in from 
Narragansett, and the distant town of War- 
ren clustered to the north ; and far, far to 
the northeast a high, blue hill rose tower- 
ing to the low-hanging clouds that capped 
the faint and distant forests, and Capt. 
Hall told us It was indeed Blue Hill of 
obsen'atoi'y fame, hard by Boston. In- 
deed, with a glass, the observatory itself 
could be easily made out. 

Once more retracing our way we turned 
toward Bristol to spend an hour or two 
Strolling 

"The pleasant streets of that dear old town," 

and those of us who were strangers in the 
land lost their hearts straightway, and 
recklessly declare=d that trains might leave 
and boats might leave, but Bristol was the 
town of their dreams, the ideal they had 
vainly sought, and in Bristol thoy should 
stay forever. 

Bristol is a town rare to find now in 
bustling East or West, where everything 
seems finished, ended, and now enjoying 
the placid rest of leisurely old age. Of 
goodly dimensions, as the stately town is, 
there is no upstart flimsy architecture of 
modern growth to flaunt its <iuiet old-time 
air ; along the beautiful streets everywhere 
elm-shaded the quaint old homesteads 
peacefully repose, and the age-loving eye 
revels in fan lights, knockers and Corin- 
thian columns, in queer old statuary in 
the old-fashioned, box-bordered gardens, 
in. the marine flavor that comes from the 
sloping streets that lead to the sea, and 
In the gay parterres where every ancient 
flower dear to our grandmothers' hearts 
blooms brightly as in its native atmos- 
phere. Even in the homes of wealth the 
architecture and adornments are so quietly 



unobtrusive, so colonial in feeling, that 
they are In harmony with the whole 
dreamy town that seems to lie in an en- 
chanted slumber, waiting for the touch of 
the magic wand that shall draw the old 
East India merchantmen again from over 
seas, revive the mouldering whalers and 
set seafaring life brisMy going again in this 
abandoned port. Flat roofs have most of 
these charming old homes, surrounded by 
massive balustrades, and reminiscent of 
the days when the dau^ters and mistress 
of the old household went aloft to watch 
the ships come in from sea, or linger 
through the gloaming in this airy outlook 
in true Oriental style. We saw wooden 
bay windows, shutters and all, of solid 




THE DEWOL.P MANSION, 
carved wood, and horizontal blinds above 
doors and windows ; we saw green glass 
tiles and fan lights tn enviable profusion, 
and we saw more beautiful churches than 
all Providence can boast. And we longed, 
most ardently for aU, to have been so 
blessed as to have been born and brought 
up in the delightful atmosphere of that 
altogether charming old seaport town, and 
to have had at our tongues' ends all the 
old legends and sea stories with which we 
could feel that the air was full and whose 
faint, Intangible essence we could almost 
grasp, strangers as we were. And so long- 
ing and lingering, we at last reluctantly 
took our train and steamed with undue 
speed away from the most fascinating town 
in all Rhode Island. 



SAUNDERSTOWN. 



[By Stonington Railroad from Providence, or l)y ferry from Newport to Wlckford. Thence hy 
steamer Wyona direct to Sauiiderstown, 25 miles from Providence. Saunders House, Stillman Saun- 
ders proprietor.] 



Ir is novr for five summers tliat the 
quiot old colony of Saunderstown has 
thrown doors open to our ever-grow- 
ing summer public, and yet the pleasant, 
dreamy old spot is hardly known even 
to Providence folk, except by the news- 
pap-T advertisement of a little steamer 
running there, connecting at Wickfoid 
with Ike 8:15 a. m. train from P^o^•l- 
denoe. A trip by this train gives one a 
long and pleasant day by the shore, or 
exploring the legendary Kingston home- 
steads which Saunderstown lies conven- 
iently near. 

From the moment one walko down the 
wharf at Wickford landing in search of 



and one steps nonchalantly over the in- 
fantile guards and seeks the after-deck, 
comfortably filled on the occasion of our 
own journey bj' the half-dozen of us who 
were the passengers. No one manned the 
deck but a youth who had escorted us 
and our baggage aboard, who took tickets 
and seemed to be in command generally, 
and we found ourselves hummuig as we 
glideil round Poplar Point Light and 
boomed along southward between Conaiii- 
cut and the main, 

"Oh, I'm the cook and the captain bold, 
And the mat<> of the Nancy brig, 

And a bos'n tight and a midshlpmlte, 
^Vnd the crew of the captain's gig." 




DUTCH ISLAND FROU UPPER BATTBIiY. 



the waiting steamer he feels himsi'lf In 
the midst of a queer, quaint and delight- 
ful adventure. The big Tockwogh, waiting 
for Newport passengers, will be lying 
directly at the dock, and one must look 
verj' hard to spy the tiny Wyona, lying 
quite eclipsed in the shadow of lur neigh- 
bor, but seeming to say with modest as- 
surance, "If you please, 1 am a steam- 
boat, too." No gang-plank is required, 



But in reality our one attendant was 
one of the clerks of the Saunders House, 
which was presently to loom up before us, 
gray and red, sitting at the water's edg(j 
on Saunderstown shore, five miles below 
Wickford. Dutch Island lay directly op- 
posite, the Government buildings and the 
green lines of eaxth embankments plainly 
showing. Farther east Conanicut's long 
green shores stretched, like the mainland. 



SAUNBEBSTOWN. 



75 



far to riorth and soutli, 'but with gray 
Beaver Tail's tower Just peeping over tlie 
southern hillocks. 

The clustered, cottages of Saunderstown 
Lie near together, scarcely a stone's throw 
ipart from each other. Many of them 
ire recently built summer cottages, for 
Che few homes of genuine old settlers 
would make hardly a scant dozen. Saua- 
lerstcwn is rightly named, for the Saun- 
lers family have not only populated, but 
made the little place. SUUman Saunders 
:s not only the hotel proprietor, but owns 
the long yellow building stretching be- 
side it, the yacht-building establishment, 
which in a prosperous season has 18 or 
20 men hard at work within. It was 
from here that the handsome 100-foot 
yracht was turned out, built for John R. 
Pales of Pawtucket; a smaller one, newly 
Bnished, lies just outside the door, and 
the air is redolent with the scent of the 
ringleted shavings that carpet the en- 
trance. Up stairs is a bowling alley, 
where the summer guests may pla> at 
Rip "Van Winkle. The brother of the hotel 
proprietor is foreman in the boat-building 
establishment, and Capt. Saunders himself 
takes a hand when hotel cares no longer 
press upon him. To Ihe grandfather of 
this family belongs the honor of the in- 
vention of the centreboard, In which our 
nation tilumphs ; and he also built the 






.i. .•'■•'Ii.ii;;''''' 

OIX) OFFICERS' QUARTERS, DUTCH ISLAKD. 

first three-masted schooner, christened 
the None Such, which, launched on these 
waters, long ago Iflnished her honorable 
career, in which she furnished all the 
stone of which Fort Adams is constructed. 
Before the broad piazza of the hotel is 
a circular pool and fountain, and directly 
beneath, in the basement proper, are the 
batlilng houses, a biief walk from the 
lapping salt water. Row boats and sail 



boats are conveniently near, and water 
parties of one kind or another come 
off daUy among the young folk, with 
whom the house is rapidly filling. It Is 
such places as these that our own Provi- 
dence people find out and freCtuent, while 
the many Westerners who swell our sum- 
mer population fill up the old, established 
resorts. But Saunderstown, in its fifth 
prosperous season, is noAV past being an 
exijeriment, and Its sojourners are loud 
In its praise. 




BEHIND THE LOWER BATTERY, DUTCH 
ISLAND. 

The famUy of A. T. Cross occupy the 
pretty little cottage within the hotel 
grounds, and dine at the hotel, as do 
those of Mr. H. F. Richards, who has a 
cosy and picturesque home In the adjoln- 
ing grounds. Mis. Hiram Kendall Is here, 
with a pretty dark-eyed niece, quite the 
belle of the place. Arthur B. Ladd, Jr., 
has put in a visit here, voyaging comfort- 
ably in his own steam launch; and 
Saunderstown is also one of the places 
at whch Mr. Reuben A. Guild tarried with 
his family on their leisurely carriage trip- 
one of the most enviable modes of travel 
in existence, and suggestive of the delight- 
ful old-fashioned days and pleasant leis- 
ure. 

The Wyona lies at the whaif all day 
between her two Wickford trips. She Is 
the property of Capt. Saunders, and has 
been for five years the only seaward 
medium of approach to that mysteilous 
and little known port; for even now nine 
persons out of ten to whom you mention 
the name wUl look blankly at you and 
inquire,. " And where In the world is 
Saunderstown?" The infant Wyona, we 
should have said, would lie aU day at the 
wharf were it not that, being the property 
of Capt. Saunders, and the captain being 
one of the most obliging of men, she Is 
more apt to be off on some brief cruise. 



76 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



bearing most of the hotel guests to New- 
port or the Dumplings or Narragansett 
Pier, wlucli is but six iiiilos below. Msli- 
Ing pai-tles are la Mgh favor, too, and the 
catch often includes a tautog said, to be 
truly Immense. The population of the 
Saunders House is a most friendly and 
hospitable one, with none of the clannish 
spii-it common to small hotels. The wan- 
dering stranger witliin the gates is made 
to feel most speedily and happily at home 
with a welcome which seems scarcely akin 
to conservative Pro^'idence. Everybody 
knows everybody, and If they do not a 
brief trip on tlie Wyona or the sail boat 
under the guidance of " Jimmy, the Reefer" 
—so called, it is said, from Ms prudent 





BAI{RACKS jWD SHIPS, DUTCH ISLAND. 

navigation— or in the four-seated, and buoy- 
ant yellow buckboard, likewise hotel prop- 
erty, serves as a siifiicient introduction 
and dispels formality. 

It is the briefest of drlA-es to the fa- 
mous old Rowland Robinson place— scarce- 
ly a mile— with its curious carvel stair- 
•way worn Into hollows, its Scripture- tiled 
lireplaces, the Lafayette bedcliamber, the 
two cenlui-y-old painting on the kitchen 
wall of a most remarkable himling scene, 
and the romance of the beautiful long- 
departed Hannah Robinson pervading all 
the quiiint old place. The beautiful val- 
ley, with the nestling lake and the old 
snuff mill by the cottage where GUbert 
Stuait was born, lies also within two 
mile?, of tlie wharf, and there is not 
a lovelier spot, historic or other, In all 



Kingston. A new but melancholy In- 
tcre&l now attaches to the old place since 
the murder by the eccentric Capt. Ken- 
yon. Then a briefer walk still from the 
b<'Cel there is a famous old house, which In 
Revolutionary days served as a fort, and' 
its walls are riddled yet with ancient bul- 
let holes. It is known as the old Casey 
house. At a corner of the road stands 
the snug little cottage, with drooping. 
eaves and rustic piazza pillars, whic^h Is 
Ijie old homestead of the Saunders family. 

Extending south along the shore is ai 
veritable cliff walk, along the narrow 
beaten foot path that runs to the old 
" south ferry," so called to distlnguLsh It 
from a once existing north ferry, a; mile 
or so above Saunderstown, plying over 
to Conanicut. It is a scant mile along 
the roclvy shore to the su^vi^^ng feriy, 
otherwise Narragansett, and makes a de- 
lightful walk, with the rippling bay on 
the one hand, the meadows on the other, 
fragrant with hay newly mown, and the 
sweet breath of the wUd rose and white 
azalea, growing here In unusual profusion 
and purity. Land and sea lay basking 
in noonday heat when we strolled south- 
ward, but the merry song of the south 
wind was in the air, and there was even 
a respectable sm-f slapping at the brown 
rocks that lay farther and farther below as 
we journeyed, and the blulfs grew higher. 
It is the nicest possible little path to lie 
near a summer hotel— full of little drops 
here and there, and an occasional stone 
stile just to give an excuse for the aid of 
a masculine hand. Once or twice a wee 
little brook ripples across the way, to 
sMde down the cliff and raise the tide 
a little ; and before we tired, the last 
stone wall was reached, and gray Narra- 
gansett shone before us in the sun. Here 
a picturesque herd of cows, red and white, 
was lirowsing high above the blue sea, and 
we slid through their midst, now and then 
addressuig conciliatory remarks and assur- 
ing them in somewhat shaky tones that 
we would not harm tbem. 

We descended the stony footpath to 
the ferry, a vorilable symphony In gray. 
Its grajTiess grows as one Avanders through 
its desolate roads. It is a little clu.ster 
of gray cottages, an abandoned ferry 



SA UNDER STO WN. 



77 



lOuse and an ancient mill dropping to 
lecay. Tlie wharf, tlie fences, the stone 
trails, the paths, the poplar trunlts, the 
fish nets and the lohsler traps are all 
jray— silver gray in the sunlight, steel 
p-ay in the shade. Down hy the water 
sits the old ferry house, its "wiudovs 
shattered, Its rooms tenanlless, and in 
bhe one low-studded, .fire-placed room 
Into which we peeped the only tenant 
was a rusty sewing machine abandoned 
to despair and prone on the earth. A big 
gray liouse, with stone walls and deep 
windows, sits somewhat above this scene 
of desolation, land by a large sign, 
" Halcyon," over the door, we wrongly 
judged it to be a public house. In the 
days of its former tenant, Joseph Eaton, 
it was, but the present occupants mei-ely 
stay here, and not enough strangers are 
misled by the sign to justify its removal. 
The place is owned by Edmund Davis 
of Providence, farm and all, but he sel- 
dom troubles its solitude with a visit, 
and it is sinking rapidly into ruin. We 
saw but one young girl, wlio talked as 
one discouraged and looked unhappy. The 
old mUl has not even the vestiges of 
glass in its staring window sashes. One 
end of the old building Is gone entirLly, 
and a boat or two reposes within, whero 
looms were once wont to clatter. All 
around the lonely walls are gray cobwebs, 
shining in the sun, and from under our 
feet on the gray shingle ;a gray toad 
hopped away. Below the mill are the 
five old cottages that once lodged the 
operative, and before the door of one, 
to complete the harmony, an old gray 
horse was stumbiingly browsing. 

However, there is a big and flourishing 
store here, in the heart of the general 
stagnation, and a post office as well, for 
Saunderstown has no store, and much 
trade comes from that tiuarter. Then the 
ferry boats ply here constantly from 
Jamestown, and many fine vehicles land 
at the dock, en route for Narragansett 
Pier from Newport, a most delightful 
drive all the way, and with easy fer- 
ries both east and west of CJonanicut. 
From the dock the road runs steep and 
high up the hill , and at its breathless top 
is perched the Narragansett Baptist 



Church, a white landmark visible for many 
miles away, and vastly suggestive in ltd 
SAvllt toboggan to the sea of new and 
improved modes of baptism. Then beyond 
here is that loveliest of drives along the 
Bonnet and past the four gray rocks of 
Bonnet Point, where the breakers chase 
each other into the silver crescent of 
Wesanage beach, and past the beautiful 
Chapin place, as lovely a spot as any 
Narragansett cliJT cottage, and so on to 
the high, T^averiug line of pale green sand 
dunes, the bridge across Narrow river and 
Narragansett Pier, proper. ., 




R. KOBESrSON HOUSE. 

In a prolonged stay at Saunderstown, 
one has plenty of opportunity to visit 
and explore the two most famous old 
houses in the neighborhood, and one day 
our party drove to them both. A scant 
mile distant rose first before us, gray 
and old, the ancient home of the ancestor 
of half the Hazards and Robinsons, who 
form the chief population of the South 
county. Enshrined among Its sombre wil- 
lows and hoary lilacs grown to the dignity 
of trees in an undisturbed dotage, still 
huge and hospitable, though but half the 
size it boasted a century and a half 
agone. Is the gray old Itobinson falrm- 
house. 

Fresh from "Recollections of Olden 
Times," wherein this historic old house 
plays so conspicuous a part, we alighted 



78 



PLEASANT PLACES IN BHODE ISLAND. 



and proceeded eagerly on a tour of in- 
spoctlon. Yes, liore was the very horse- 
block of enduring stone, where beautiful 
liannali's dainty foot was pressed— so 
many years ago, It makes one sad to 
think— btautif 111 Hannah who furnished 
so charming a legend for our local his- 
torians by running away with her music 
master. It is a pity no sort of portrait 
is preserved of tbis wonderful bille of 
olden time. Her loveliness was so rare 
that it called forth a compliment from a 
Quaker ; and a legend Is exuint to the 
eli'ecL that one " Dare Devil Harry," a 
daslifcg young officer, who had seen the 
world, and k'ssed a quecin, was s > ovir- 
come on first beholding ber that he sank 
to the earth before her, and imploring 
her in faltering accents, to " let the lips 
that had pressed uiu-ebuked those of the 
proudest sovereign on eartli, now be 
permitted to touch the hand of an angel,"' 
or V. orils to that effect, proceeded to do s.i. 

The heart of fair Mistress Hannah was, 
however, engaged in another quarter, and 
the old lilac bush before the door is the 
identical one into which she was wont to 
drop billets for the comfort of her lover 
concealed among its foliage, and the 
rather cramped quarters of an upper bed- 
room closet mark another hiding sp t for 
the amorous master of music, whose lurk- 
ing propensities were developed by the 
somewhat uncertain and peppery temper 
of Robinson pere, who evidently had some 
more eligible suitor in his mind's eye. 

Old Rowland Robinson must have been 
the very ideal of the old-time bluff coun- 
try squire: all manner of traditions yet 
abound as to his fierce temper, his reck- 
lessness and obstinacy and the kind heart 
behind It all. 

"Bring me a glass of water," so hla 
descendants relate, was once his historic 
dictate, as unseen footsteps sounded with- 
out, i 

"I'm de coachman, sah," answered that 
functionary hesitatingly, evidently se Ing 
that he was mistaken for a house servant. 

"Oh, you are the coachman, are you?" 
his liege master replied In the suave tones 
of well-governed rage. " Vpry well ; go 
down in tlie fields, catch the horses and 
harness them to tlie carriage." 



This Pompey accordingly did— I suppose 
his name was Pompey— after severe ex- 
ertions, and when he at length trium- 
phantly drew rein before tlie door, he was- 
bidden to convey a servant who stood; 
waiting with goblet in hand, down to the ■ 
well for a glass of water. When this 
errand was finally performed, no doubt 
witlx some shamefacedness on the pai-t of! 
both— " Now, sirrah," thundered old Row- 
land Robinson in liis miglit, "let this 
teach you never again to presume to dic- 
tate to me as to what your duties arel"' 
^^d let us hope his goblet of water ■ 
cooled his wrath. 

There came a day when, like Xerxes of 
old, Rowland Robinson stood on the sea . 
shore and wept, as he beheld a f esh 
cargo of slaves arriving from across seas— 
not because of new-born compunctions as ■ 
to the propriety of slave owninsr. but be- 
cause he felt himself tO) old to be flying 
into rages with so many of them : an'I im- 
portations ceased. But we are digres-;lng 
from the fair Hannah, like her oiisinal 
blogi-apher. who heartlessly leaves Jjer on 
a litter half way home, while he g-"ies 
cheerfully ambling all over South County 
for the space of a lialf-dozen chapters, 
and then, suddenly bethinlcing himself, in- 
geniously proceeds, "' as the bearers of 
Miss Robins' n's litter passed on tlirO'i?h 
all this cliarming country which I have 
endeavored to describe." 

Miss Robinson finally eloped, and after 
a brief term of stolen happiness found 
herself deserted by ■ her fickle and un- 
worthy husband. Slie became seriously 
ill, through grief and anxiety, for her 
father had forbidden ail communication 
between her and members of the family. 
It was only when, from her far away 
home in Provid'^nc, tidings reached f't^m 
of her unquestionably dangerous condi- 
tion, that the proud old squire in any 
wise relented, though Hannah liad been 
his favorite child, and then it was only in 
so far as to admit of his performing a 
daily journey on horseback to the city, 
and Inquiring of the servant at the door 
as to her mistress's health. But full for- 
giveness came at last, and poor Hannah's 
piteous entreaty to be allowed to return 
home was at last acceded to ; and as she 



SA UN DEB S TO WN. 



79 



•was noTV far too ill to accomplish the 
Joiu'ney by other means, lour men ser- 
vants were detailed to bear her home hy 
slow stages on a litter. She died soon 
alter reaching there. It is a long and 
pitiiul tale, and seems to have been pre- 
served with great fidelity of detail la the 
family annals. 

The rooms are quaint and interesting, 
and much of the old fumitui-e is still pre- 
served. Even in its decadence, the house 
still shows what a lordly mansion it must 
have been la the olden times, as New Eng- 
land mansions then went. Many of the 
rooms are panelled heavily and handsome- 
ly, the fireplaces are tiled with the oddest 
and crudest of ancient tiles— brown and 
white Dutch landscapes in what was once 
the dining room, and blue Scripture tUes 
in the long parlor, and the fire chamber 
above. We put in a very agreeable half 
hour before the parlor fireplace, guessing 
at the various events' which these start- 
llagly crude tUes were meant to depict, 
but I fear w^e were sadly a-field. 

An old clock, which we would certainly 
tiave borne away furtively, had it been pos- 
sible, bore all down its front an odd and 
valuable design of metal mosaic ; exqui- 
site little bits executed with that loving, 
patient fidelity which is not possible to 
craftsmen on this side of the globe. One 
of our number recognized in it a twin to 
one owned by Ben : Perley Poo re. 

And the stairway— well, one does not 
often come upon such a stairway in an 
ordinary-looking, old-fashioned farmhouse ; 
all of carved wood, even up the winding 
turns to the attic. The balusters are 
carved in spirals, and hollows are worn In 
the landings as deep as the hollow of a 
man's hand. On the second floor, over 
the parlor, is the " Lafayette room," the 
" best chamber" which Lafayette occupied 
while he and his staff were aaartered here, 
away back in Revolutionary days. This, 
too, is a panelled room, and boasts more of 
the absurd little tiles in the ancient fire- 
place. Up In the attic — oh ! what a delight- 
ful collection— are spinning wheels, hetchels 
and crumbltag old side saddles, and the 
other Mnd, so old that they crumble at a 
touch, and would be sent, leather and all, 
to the land of Nowhere at a hearty shake 



and vanish like a dream. Indeed, every- 
thmg seems dreamlike In this old house, 
with the spell on it still of an ancient day ; 
and, CLueerest of all, maybe, is the old 
hunting scene out in the kitchen, over the 
fireplace, and slowly browning and disap- 
pearing beneath the smoke and stain of the 
cavernous fireplace for a century and a 
half. It is boldly painted in oils, directly 
upon the inviting great wooden panel, and 
commemorates a deer hunt which took 
place on the premises while the house was 
being built. The deer is madly, though 
fatally, scuttling across to the right, aad 
in a long row behind him four spectral 
hounds in Indian file can be seen pursuing 
him, if one stands in the right light. To 
the left— ah, were ever such gallant horse- 
men—a pair of them are standing very 
straight and stiff in their stirrups, and 
what must have been the gayety of their 
trappings and the brilliancy of their but- 
tons, that they are shining faintly still. 
The horses' tails are describing wUd para- 
bolas, and in a tree above their heads, on 
a delicate twig, sits airily poised an os- 
trich or a rOc, or some such thing. It is 
nob as big as their horses, but it would 
hold Its own with the deer. The name 
of the artist whose hand wrought it Is un- 
Imown, but it is strange to think it has 
been dust these long years, while so fraU 
a memento survives. There is a treasure 
in the cellar; a Newport clairvoyant once 
graphically described it and its situation, 
but no one has ever dug it up yet. It is 
a funny thing that clairvoyants do not 
themselves dig for treasures and say noth- 
ing to anybody, but probably they are phi- 
lanthropists or haven't got time. 

Reluctantly we tore ourselves away from 
this Interesting abode, where we had paint- 
ed, photographed and asked questions to 
our heart's content, according to our 
various bent. The present occupants are 
descendants of the old Robinsons, and very 
kindly told us the old tales and showed 
us the old furnishings, and in their hearts 
voted us awful bores, I have no doubt, 
though they gave us pears and asked us 
to come again, as we rode away grasping 
twigs of the historic lilac bush, a]id with 
oui' laoj set to the Gilbert Stuart place. 

Two or three mUes beyond, the way 



1 



80 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



leads by a stony descending lane down 
Into the green and beautiful valley, where 
the famciiis oUl-tiine paintoi- was bom. 

At the head of a little laUe, tree-en- 
sbiliied and gnen with Illy pads, stands 
the little box of a house beside the Old 
mill that now gi'inds grist, and once 
ground snuff lor the noses of our greatr 
grana-parents. There were lour In our 
party : two had come to sketch, and time 
was precious. The miller met us at the 
door, for we felt that we must have one 
looK at the very room in which Stuart 
was born. He was of a mas.-ive, majestic 
and patriarchal dt meaner ; the fact that 
he was barefooted ana clad in the habill- 




Gn.BEr.T STUART PLACE. 

ments of toil did not detract from the 
stateliness of Ms mien. He led us, 
solemnly and impressively, tlirough the 
small latchen and by a doorway where 
most of us had to stoop. Into a bare, little 
square chamber, where one dominating 
Object met the eye— a bed. "Here," said 
the miller, " history tells its that the 
famous painter, Gilliert Stuart, first saw 
the light Of day. Subsequent history also 
conveys the Idea that^" One of the 
artists glanced at his watch. "It is very 
Interesting," he murmured. "I think I'll 
go and get a good place to sketch it from 
the outsiae," and he slipped away. 
Slowly and with more impresslveness the 
miller began again— "It Is related that, 
when strangers occupied this unpretend- 



ing house, years after the grand mission 
of his life was finally accomplished, un- 
linown, unassuming and unwilling to 
create any ostentation, the aged Stuart 
returned again to his boyhood's home, 
and craved permission to enter and muse 
a while In tlie verj"^ apartment which jou • 
now behold. That permission was grant- I 
ed. The—" 1 

"Tills lady will stay and tell us all 
about it," murmured the second artist; 
" we should be so glad to hear, but we 
have very little time." And with her 
companiun the other two slipped away, 
and the narrator of tliis chronicle was 
left alone with the patriarch and the his- 
tory of Gilbert Stuart. 

We returned to the iittlo Idtchen, neat 
as If a woman's hands had been busy 
within, but this lioary custodian is miller 
and houselteeper as well for tlie wee 
house of five small rooms. He can relate 
"historic escipodes," as he says he Is fond 
of doing, with great force and dramatic 
power; but somehow I think I should 
have to see him wliipping up an omelet 
or popping corn, fur Instance, to believe 
he could do it successfully. He to:d me 
of his own family history, gave particu- 
lars of the time •' when liincoln was 
niassacreed." and tlirilled me with a sen- 
tence 1 bad never before heard, said to 
have been addressed to Dr. Hammond : 
" Doctor, you air a dressing the wownds 
of a nation." 

it was very, very still In the little 
room. The sketchers were far away ; the 
clock licked dismaly. The old man's 
tones were resonant and came from deep 
down in liis che-t. He told me of the 
gi-aveyaid hard by. "In that sacred en- 
olosui-e," he said, while his eyes rested 
impressively and sadly on me, " in that 
sacred enclosure the mortal remains of 
two of my brothers and one of my sisters 
somewhere reposes ; where, 1 do not 
know." 

Tick, tlbk, went the clock solemnly. 
"Have you a cat?" I inquired. Irrelevant- 
ly, and mayhap flippantly, but I was pic- 
turing the old man alone In all this soli- 
tude. "Yes; I have a cat," said the tragic 
miller in stately cadences. " He is— away, 
mostly. He Is black and white ; or, per- 



SA UNDEB S TO WN. 



81 



liaps I sliould. say, scory and -wMte. I will 
see If I can call Mm." He advanced to the 
door -witli majestic tread, and uplifted Ms 
sonorous voice : " Here, Ko-ker, doker , ro- 
ker, ro-ker, doker, ro-ker?" but no scory 
anO. wMte cat appeared la response to tMs 
mysterious summons, though the Industri- 
ous artists without subsequently professed 
to have been greatly terrified wh6n these 
words smote the air, and to have been on 
the point of organizing a searching party 
for the missing one of their number. "I 
will read you," said the Mndly patriarch, 
returning, " some portions of the Ufe of 
this celebrated man." He seated Mmself 
In an armchair opposite, opened a pamph- 
let, and began with Ms magnificent voice 
sunk an octave or two lower : " In the 
old mill house standing at the head of the 
stream, Stuart, ^the painter, was born, Dec. 
13, 1755; died in Boston, July 28, 1828. 
On the little sandy beach here, the boy 
artist outlined his playful fancies. Not 
maiiy years ago was destroyed a small 
chest filled with outlines drawn Ln youth- 
ful days. As the traveller halts here, he 
sees around Mm that natural landscape 
wMch gave the youthful artist Ms first 
lessons. SketcMng was Ms play, and In 
his school days the thought was ever near. 
Finally he went to Newport; thence to 
Virgima, and thence to England, where 
he matured Ms studies and solicited pa- 
tronage. Here he labored and here he 
lived during the great struggle for inde- 
pendence. Here he lived, doomed to hear 
Ms people denounced and declared un- 
grateful and rebellious subjects. He was 
prudent enough to keep his' thoughts to 
Mmself; but Ms soul fairly shouted when 
his people were victorious. There can be 
ao doubt that Stuart was strongly suspect- 
ed of American sympathy, and that Ms, 
patronage was measured by those senti- 
ments. His soul was maturing the grand 
conception to paint Washington, the great 
cMef, and this took so strong a hold upon 
tils mind that it excluded all other plans. 
When the Duke of Kent offered unusual 
Jiducements, and offered to send a ship to 
America to bring Mm back, aU was de- 
slined respectfully. Not a Dulte of Eng- 
6 



land, with all the power and patronage 
behind him, had a face so dear to Ms pen- 
cil as that of the great WasMngton, Ms 
country's deliverer." 

" Thank you ever so much," I Inter- 
pof-ed, hastily, as he paused for breath: 
" my friends will be expecting me now, I 
think; I— » / 

"Stay, young lady," said the hoary 
miller, with uplifted hand. " You may In- 
trude upon your friends at their paint- 
ing. I iwUl relate to you an anecdote of 
Gineral WasMngton at the house of my 
great-grandfather. " 

The anecdote, in brief, narrates how 
Washington, incognito, remained over 
Mght at the hospitable Col. Rose's; how, 
through the thin partition, they heard 
Ms voice uplifted in evening prayer; 
how they saw he had a military aspect, 
but were far from guessing the truth; 
how, in the morning the stranger guest 
with sublime disregard of Lindley Mur- 
ray, inguired, « What has me and my pony 
cost you for our keeping?" and how the 
elder Rose repUed that to take anytMng 
would be a breach of Narragansett hos- 
pitality. Then said the unknown : " If 
you wUl accept nothing, I wUl teU you 
who I am. I am Gineral George Wash- 
ington, Commander-in-Chief of the Armies 
of the United States 1" The effect of 
tMs modest announcement is wisely left 
to the imagination of the hearer, and the 
anecdote closes with the ferrying of the 
unknown guest, by one Gideon Northup, 
over to Newport from the old Beach 
ferry, to keep Ms tryst with Rocham- 
beau. 

There wasn't any funeral going on, and 
we were not in church, but somehow 
when I finally sUd out of that humble 
cottage, hearing for final delectation an 
excellent jest the parson had recently 
made, to the effect that If the Lord had 
intended people to use snuff. He would 
have made their noses the other side up- 
ward—when sunshine and blue sky were 
all about, I breathed more freely. And 
now time was up and so were the easels, 
and gayly :our buckboard buoyantly bore 
us back to the homeUke little hotel la 
Saunderstown. 



TIVERTON HEIGHTS. 



[Providence, Warreu and Bristol Railroad, 

IT is a pleasant trip, and not too long a 
one, from Pro\i.(ience down to Tiver- 
ton Heights by the "Warren branch of 
the Old Colony. It is practically a water 
trip, if one sits on the right of the car 
skirting the s;ilt wat<'r's edge, flitliag by 
tlie stations that mark the successive 
shore resorts into which lialf Providence 
yearly pours, turning inland at Barring- 
ton, drawing up briefly in Warren, flit- 
ting on to Fall River, big, crowded and 
citified on the steep hillside down wMch 
runs a broad and conspicuous highway, 
giving Fall River the appearance of having 
its hair parted in the middle. Then the 
way lies seaward again, and Mount Hope 
lies off to the right across the bay and 
Rhode Island rnns out a bari-ing arm 
against further passage. Brown & Bright- 
man's oU works loom up close at hand, 
and across the water Church's big fac- 
tory on the island gives evidence that we 
are nearing our journey's end; with Tiver- 
ton's heights rising green to tlie left of 
us, and Narragansett's waters rippling 
blue to the right of us, we slow up at 
our destination and alight, and the train 
whisks around westward and glides over 
the long railroad bridge and plunges into 
the heart of Rhode Island In search of 
Newport, its goal. 

We are stranded on the high platform 
of Tiverton's station, and a modest chorus 
of primitive hackmen shows us thatAlsit- 
ors are expected. This platform view is 
the most unfavorable possible to Tiverton, 
and It is not well to tarry long . Either 
climb the hUl and get a bii-d's eye view of 
ocean and inland or take the lower road 
and view the water front. TlA-erton Is one 
vast terrace, its first stage rising from the 
lower road to the blutf road, on which 



20 miles from Providence, 55 minutes ride.] 

stand most of the many summer cottages, I 
and from which numerous railed stairways ' 
toboggan abruptly do\\'n. Its second rises 
up and up till it leaves the spreading \t1- 
lage behind, and stretches in a level J 
plateau or lonely farmland eastward till ' 
one trips up against tne state ime and 
falls into Massachusetts. The map tells 
us that the good folk of Tiverton and Lit- 
tle Compton manage to thrive in a very 
stingy little comer of our not over-big 
State. It might appear, indeed, by the 
map, that a stalwart Little Compton six- 
footer might stand easily with one foot on J 
Sakonnet Point and the other on Massa- 
chusetts soil, but this is not reaJly the 
case, as one may see, if he climb and 
look eastward on all those lines of stone 
wall and pasture-land, undulating off to- 
ward the i-ising sun, and is told that all 
those goodly acres are in Rhode Island. 
Nothing but scattering farm houses lie oft 
here till one gets well over the border ; all 
the bustle and activity are along the 
shore between the bridges, where the 
train halts and the Queen City, too, either 
to land passengers or to struggle with the 
di'aws ; and the callous natives have now 
grown indifferent to the little boat's oc- 
casional wrestle with the tide and the In- 
sufficient passways. 

From bridge to ibridge, and village to 
N-illage— Stone Bridge Village and bridge to 
the south, Tiverton and railroad bridge to 
the north— is just one mile, and it is ft 
brisk and springy walk indeed, if one 
goes OR the lower road straight south from 
the station, for there Is a plank walk all 
the way. With the crisp salt smell in the 
air, and the wind freshly blowing from 
leagues away at sea. It is with buoyancy 
one traverses this elastic sidewalic, and 
notes with astonishment the number of 



TIVEBTON HEIGHTS. 



83 



Bslierraen's sliantles and fish markets tliat 
lot the water's edge. Signboards beside 
them read : " Bluefish, Squiteague, Tau- 
tog Live, Scup, Lobsters, Clams, Qua- 
tiaugs, Clam Diggers and Boats to Let." 
ft is a fish-consuming as well as a fish- 
jatchtng village, but it has a large sum- 
mer population. In a massive row, drawn 
ip the beach above the caprices of the 
bides' assaults, are the great fishing boats 
that used, to iourney down to Salconnet 
'or the big scup catches of the spring, 
md menhaden that come later, but the 
>ld boats are now condemned for rough 
sea voyages, and will be sold and end 
bheir labors in safe still waters, like faith- 
:ul old steeds turned out to pasture and 
jhildren's petting. Many of the pretty 
ittle summer cottages on the terrace 
ibove lead doAvn to bathing houses on the 
jeach below, and the nautical flavor is 
lere strongly manifest, for one of the lit- 
le retiring rooms of the Narragansett 
^enuses is an old deck house that seems 
lO have been once at home on some lum- 
ber smack, and further south, down be- 
ore the handsome Robeusen place, is a 
)ilot house doing similar duty. It looks 
"■ery funny, indeed, with its rounded front, 
ts green shuttered windows at the back, 
md its open casements either side, the in- 
visible wheel, where one expects mo- 
uentarily to catch the gleam of blue uni- 
brm and brass-buttoned cap, hear the 
iharp clang of the pilot's bejll, and see 
his weird little batliing house go sudden- 
y gliding, ghostly commander and aU, 
nto the inviting salt waters. The 
tome to which it belongs is one of the 
tnest in Tiverton, large and massive, with 
>road lawns and a sloping circular drive- 
way. Mrs. Robens-en has recently died, 
md the property descends to an adopted 
laughter. 

The two chief houses of entertainment 
band on these first terraces. The Bay 
lew House has been in charge of Mr. 
,.. Tallman, an old resident, for years, 
t is no longer a regular hotel, but a 
ouse of entertainment for transients, and 

weekly clambake resort. Special par- 
ies from Fall River much affect Tiverton 
nd its clambakes, and the Bay View House 
3 a pleasant and breezy spot. Somewhat 



to the southward stands a pleasant 
white cottage, and here Mrs. Kate GrinneU 
serves her famous Thursday clambakes. A 
stranger is sui'prised to find how much of 
a resort Tiverton is for those who know it. 
Mrs. GrinneU often entertained 300 guests 
at her airy, out-door dining-room. But 
It is not from Providence that either 
the clam-hungry folk or summer residents 
come. Tiverton is practically an imknown 
bourne to Providence citizens, and not one 
among the ;many new cottages that are 
popping up like mushrooms on every hand 
is designed for our people— at least, so far 
as was known at Tiverton. One and 
aU, they were for Taunton families ; 
twenty have already gone up new, and 
it is said that there wUL be thirteen more 
in readiness for another season. Not 
only along the shore and on the heights 
are they stretching along, in the favorite 
" downthe-river" combinations of brown 
and yellow, red and white, blue and gray, 
with a legend "Rose Villa" or something 
akin over the door, but they have ven- 
tured out on the .Island also, which 
stretches invitingly near shore here, and 
is connected by the railroad bridge. Right 
across from Tiverton village rises a loom- 
ing crag, decked with evergreens and 
more lowly vines, and half a dozen gay 
little cottages nestle on the landward side 
at its foot. This lofty and picturesque 
elevation is known locally as " The Hum- 
mock, " or in the fisherman patois, " har- 
mock." 

It is little wonder that this particular 
spot, Tiverton Heights, has come to such 
rapid crowning by cottages; the view Is 
one of the fairest on the bay. The 
isla.nd is at its prettiest here, with nu- 
merous pejiinsulas striving out landwaxd 
and the gi'eat, dark hummock empha- 
sizing it all. Stone Bridge Village is a 
cosy little hamlet below, with its sec- 
ond span across the bay, and the square 
gi'ay house, that was once the bridge's 
tollhouse, far across on the island end. 
Below the bridge lies the fair little 
jewel of Gould's Island, and away up 
north, 1j the euphonious but pleasant 
Hog Isl; nd. Bristol Ferry light looms 
white before the green shores northward, 
and away east, acYoss the indenting bay, 



84 



PLEASANT PLACES IN lillODE ISLAND. 



Mount lUpo rises, blue and dreamy in 
the distant sunshine. Everywhere is the 
sparkling -wjaer of the blue bay, and 
scudding white sailboats bending to the 
breeze. New and old residents are 
entbiif-iastlc over their pet view, and it 
must be seen to be appreciated. 

One wonders, though, as he continues 
southward, still buoyantly treading the 
elastic planks by the shore's edge, where 
are all the old hoiLses, lor the little town 
thus far has seemed very modern. Few 
of the old settlers are by the shore ; most 
are away back east on the scattered farms. 
There is one, though, fairly down into 
Stone Bridge Village, a little white gara- 
brel-roofed cottage, quaint of design, and 
with a worn, narrow footpath leading 
thi-ough the grass to its back door. The 
ell of the bouse is its oldest part, and 
Its loose clapboards are black with age. 
Compassionate woodbines have draped its 
pictures<iue decay with heaN^y fcatliery 
masses of green, and the old door^tones 
are worn and ancient. Within, the huge 
fireplace fulfills the promise of the great 
outer chimney. It stretches half across 
the room, and when two families on e 
amicably kept bouse together In its lim- 
ited domains, each housewife had her 
range in her own corner of the fireplace. 
Horace Grinnell occupies this veteran 
abode at present ; away down below, in 
the bit of a shore hamlet known as Bridge- 
port, there Is an older house still— the 
Barker place, now occupied by Mr. An- 
thony. Stone Bridge Village and its one 
pretenllous store reached at last, its most 
conspicuous leature Is tne closed hotel, 
"Stone Bridge Cottage." It Is a pale 
gray, plazzaed bouse, pleasantly situated 
at the water's edge, and Its lack of pat- 
ronage seems to have been not so mucli 
by reason of non-coming guests, as its 
high, prices, some of the front rooms ex- 
pectantly waiting occupants at SKJS a 
weekl However, It Is expected the ho- 
tel may revive and reopen 'another si ason 
under new management. A r\'ewport 
banking company has possession. Mean- 
while signs of lUe pervade the house, for 
a tlirifty Tiverton family have let their 
own luinlshett house for the season and 
rented this hotel for a modest sum. As 



It contiams rorty-one rooms and their own 
family is of four, they find them- 
selves amply accommodated, and cook» 
In the olfice and dine in the parlor 
in delightful ease. The hall of thai 
hotel is especially handsome, supported! 
by cedar posts untrimmcd, with the 
dark red-brown hearts of tlie knots in i 
rich contrast with the polished yel- 
low wood. The broad-railed stairway, 
bad its posts and banisters of the same^ 
picturesque material, and Its effect l3i 
unique and beautiful. The broad front 
piazzas look directly down upon the 
water, the new band stand and the fimny 
little beach shanty, which will be remem- 
bered as the scene of the exciting " beach i 
contest" of a past season, where the Old' 
Colony Eailroad and the Baptist Church 
represented a war between religion and 
progress in their struggles for the land on 
which the unotfendlng wee homestead 
stood. During its progress the worthy 
couple occupying the tiny house, Mr, and 
Mrs. Manchester, enjoyed a free ride with 
their household Elects ail about them a 
mUe down the beach and back again, re- 
ligion moving the mansion one way and 
railroading the other. Most of the soU 
whose title was originally disputed, is said 
to be now under water, and Mrs. Man- 
chester now peacefully washes dishes at 
her sinlc and beholds the same view thrice 
daUy, instead of a slowly moving pan- 
orama. 

Most of the summer cottages are built 
on the railroad company's land, on the 
island as well as a strip along shore. Cot- 
tage builders annually lease the land at 
$5 a year, and build wherever they please 
on the company's domains. Menhaden is 
the chief fish sought here now, and be- 
tween farm and salt water, two stores 
and the Queen City's supplies life is easily 
supported. The large white cottage that 
caps the northern end of Rhode Island's 
eastern peninsula was formerly owned by 
Mr. Willdnson of Pro^'ldence, but has 
gone over, like Its neighbors, to Taunton 
occupancy, and is owned by Waldo Reed, 
a lawyer of that city. 1 

Daily the combined store and Post Oh 
fice of Stone Bridge \'illage is visited In 
summer by two young men, who row 



TIVEBTON HEIGHTS. 



85 



ashore from a mysterious liaunt out in 
mid-stream— a liidden tent amid the heavy 
foliage of tiny Gould's Island, -where there 
Is an unsuspected clearing. They are two 
Harvard boys, one hailing from Provi- 
dence, who seem vastly contented with 
thoii" wild and soUtai-y summer outing. 
They have an elaborate and captivating 
little canoe, the finest to be bought for 
money, and into it they stow a most in- 
credible number of commodities, in their 
shopping excursions, and shoot away again 
to their Crusoe island. 



pT^ 




[ iinoffliifiiipi'iifitifi"' 




OID TTVERTON HOTEL. 

Most of Tiverton's excitement clusters 
about its two all too Harrow drawbridges 
ol evil fame. We had long wished for one 
of the exciting experiences at the draw 
of which we had heard, and one spring 
evening, on a return trip from New Bed- 
ford, in the bit of a freight steamer Harry, 
we got it. The little boat was already 
belated, and dusk was falling as we 
steamed up past Sakonnet, and passed the 
fair little gem of Gould's Island, Its 
clustering trees jet black against a golden 
sky, and begin to speculate as to our 
chances of shooting the draws in a tide 
which should be favorable. 

Stone Bridge looms up before us, and 
the " Hoot I hoot I " of our whistle for an 
open draw startles the echoes along the 
sunset shores, but does not, alas, startle 
the bridge tender from his evening repast, 
or whatever avocation he is at present 
pursuing. We slow up, we pause, we even 
back, and the echoes hoot again and again, 
impatiently now, and presently comes 
hastily from the westward our ancient 
autocrat, dimly descried in the dusky dis- 
tance, "Fiddltn' Gid," "Handy Gid," as 
one chooses to call him, along with other 



titles less complimentary in nature. " Fid- 
dim' Gid" is regarded with a certain re- 
spect for his rescue of three out of a 
lamUy of five who went in bathing at a 
southern point here, and began to drown 
with a beautiftil unanimity, unpremedi- 
tated though it was. In its own good 
time our draw swings around, a roaring 
wall of water pDes up in oiu* pathway, 
and runs before us into the filling bowl 
that lies between Stone Bridge and rail- 
road bridge. Captain and pilot are both 
at the wheel now, and In a wild confusion 
of ringing bells, revolving spokes and es- 
caping steam, with a rush and a roar we 
whiz through with the filling tide, swing- 
ing so close to port we can jump ashore 
if we are so disposed, and No. 1 is safely 
passed. The dusk deepens ; Stone Bridge 
village behind us hangs out twinkling 
lights one by one, and a red eye winks 
from the railroad bridge before. Here 
will be our worst struggle, for the draw 
is eight feet narrower than the other, 32 
only, and the little Harry has a width of 
24. Only ifour feet leeway on either 
hand, and with the tide rushing down this 
time it will take a miracle to go through 
without scraping, to say nothing of crash- 
lug. We ponder silently awhile on the 
cause of the flow tide running down 
through this draw, where it ran up down 
below. We have neve^ understood it, we 
do not now. Listen, then, while our cap- 
tain enlightens us. " You take a bowl 
with a hole in each side, and plunge it 
into water. Long as the water rises it 
I'ushes in equally fast each side — see? 
Here's your bowl and the tide rising. In 
from above, in from below, too ; oh, 
you're not the first ones that didn't un- 
derstand it." 

, Though we whistled at Stone Bridge to 
wake the echoes, we may whistle again 
at railroad bridge before our draw swings. 
Not hastily from the westward, but 
leisiirely from the eastward tills time 
comes Jerry In the fullnessi of time— Jerry 
of fewer titles and. less speed. He is not 
our menial and wUl not huri-y for any 
craft. We are the only voyagers through 
to-night; with a wile draw the schooners 
and the "fishermen" would have been 
glad to get up to Providence this way, 



86 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 






but they liave long ago given up beating 
against the -wind, and anchored doTvn be- 
loAV. ll.islcii, .ItTi-y, lor a Iruiu is soon 
due, and that draw must shut again. 
Now for it, then. Again we nish for- 
ward, again tjie spokes liy, again the pilot 
gives her "one bell," "two bells," as the 
case may bo ; that four feet leeway looks 
even on either hand, tlie steamer's nose 
pokes bravely in, the wild tide catches 
her, she struggles, slie succumbs, and 
with a bump and a bang we bring up 
hard to port, hesitate and drift down 
stream. There seems nothing for an ig- 
norant landsman to do— or but one thing. 
A bowl of hot tea, for oui- refreshing, 
keeps warm on the small radiator. He 
can rescue the bowl, at all events, if we 
bang again, for half its contents flew over 
this time. Again we turn down stream, 
get up headway and charge at our 
needle's eye once more. In we go, in 
the roar of the falling water— on and on, 
are we doing it? Alas for the power of 
that swift toiTent ! Over to starboard we 
slide, steering all in vain, and bang, 
crash 1 with a will on the other hand, 
while we clutch the bowl. Down we go 
in the current's grasp, quite ignoring the 
engine, bumping ^'iciouslJ^ once more be- 
fore we slide hopelessly down into tiie 
filling bowl again, gray in the growing 
dusk. " That's a strange tide, " muses 
the captain, •• a most tre-men-dous tide ; 
don't understand it. No moon, either. 
Well, it's about time for that train, John. 
It's no use, we've got to tie up and wait 
for slack tide." 

"But, captain," quavers our companion, 
with apprehensive eyes, "isn't it danger- 
ous to charge into the bridge this way ?" 

" Dangerous— well, j^es," cheerfully re- 
plies our captain. " Quite a number of 
vessels have been sunk here, a steamer 
or two, and two or three sailing vessels." 
And, quU<> unconscious of the dismay he 
has awakened, he descends jo-s-lally with 
his friend for a smoke, as though the delay 
were the finest thing In the world. The 
draw closes, a red glare creeps around Po- 
casset Hill, where other household lights 
are twinlding merrily in the dark; above 
the babble of the wild flood through tlie 



draw comes a low, faint rumble, and the 
belated train creeps upon the bridge, the 
glow of the headUglit flashing all the way 
across the water to our waiting vessel. 
The long lines of light flash above and 
flash below in troubled reflections and are 
gone. The sky is full of stars; the night 
is perfect. There is plenty to eat oa 
board, and the rescued tea smokes even 
yet. Why should we grumble 1 Re- 
freshed from their smoke our commanders 
return and await slack tide, we talk, we 
sing, with the babbling waters accom- 
panying, wliile the night grows older. We 
fail to discussing ovu- memories, infantile 
and otherwise. Our substitute pilot says 
he remembers when he was two years old, 
and our captain derides it. Pilot waxes 
earnest ; goes on to furnish detaQs. Says 
he lived down on the Cape at two years 
of age, and a dog bit his sister, and he 
remembers it. " Oh, ho," laughs our cap- 
tain. " Don't beUeve it— you can't make 
me believe that." 

— -f''^-'>, 



-^^^-^-^^Siji:^^^ 




THE OLD BRIDGB. 

Our pilot di\-es deeply into his pocket, 
brings up a handful of small change, and 
proceeds to count it. "There," cries he, 
holding it forth in anxious entreaty. 
"There's eighty -five cents^I'll give you 
that If you'll believe it." 

Amid oiu' hilarity at tills improvement 
on proof, a change comes o'er the tide. 
The lines are cast off, all Is again excite- 
ment, we slide down stream, and once 
more rush up toward the black shadow 
of a bridge, one of us clutching the bowl, 
one thinking of all those wrecked vessels, 
and again we go at tlie big bridge, wliich 
is luckily higher than the draw is widS; 
or we might get stuck on top. The roar 
of water is fainter, the boat minds her 
helm a little bit better, we gain on the 
blaclc sliadow- we enter It; It Is sliding 
by on the riglit, on the left, a cloud of 



TIVERTON HEIGHTS. 



87 



steam flies around us, and with a rush 
and a roar we are through, without a 
scraping, and the black bridge, surround- 
ed by a climbing cloud ol steam, dies 
away in the night, and the red eye winks 
knowingly at us as it vanishes. Once 
more we are on the wing, and have not 
sprung a leak. 

Have we made too much of our small 
adventures? It Is only to show the de- 



lightful experiences frequent among voy- 
agers on the Sakonnet river. If the very 
liberal corporation that controls those 
draws ever sees fit to widen them, not 
only local commerce, but State, will 
rise up and call it blessed, as a gance at 
the map wUl show. Meanwhile ma- 
riners will continue to bump, scrape, go 
to the bottom, anchor or pass the other 
way. 



SAKONNET POINT AND LITTLE COHPTON. 



[By steamer Queen City, 30 miles from Providence, tliree and a half hours sail. Fare, gl.OO roun( 
trip. Sakonnet House, J. L. Slocum.] 



STARTING- at llie foot of Planet 
street, the neat little steamer 
Queen City makes a daily trip 
now direct to Sakonnet, leaving the 
"wharf at 9 :00 a. m. and gi^'lDg ex- 
cursionists three hours at the shore, un- 
less they care to longer tarry, -which most 
of them do. It is pleasant company that 
one finds on board the Queen City, kindly 
and social, and not bent every one heart 
and soul to the absorbing business of 
looking out for numbei' one. The pui'ser 
and various employes will treat you like 
long-lost friends, and be gently solicitous 
for your welfare. Did we not mislay one 
of our belongings, and speedily find a half- 
dozen anxious searchers? Was not the 
steward, or whoever he might be, serving 
a lunch below to a smaU party, and did 
he not promptly accede to our request for 
some specially delicious watermelon, and 
reply to our query as to price -svlth utmost 
cordiality, "Oh, nothing— nothing at alll" 

Did ever anybody he'ar the like ? 

The Sakonnet trip forms a pleasing va- 
riation on the old familiar way between 
Providence and Newport. It Is to the 
east of the island the boat turns, instead 
of proceeding southward by the west 
shore ; turning east by Poppasquash, be- 
tween Hog Island and the mainland, and 
running close enough to shore to set all 
the passengers staring at Mayor Lowe's 
qua<int conceit of a house, high on the rise 
from shore. Picture one tremendously 
long, broad ground floor, with every con- 
ceivable compartment therein, and a roof 
placed lightly above it. Then imagine the 
roof pulled up ever so slightly to a central 
peak, just enough to tuck in a few more 
rooms on the second story ; fill Lq with wee 






balconies, ancient windows and Mts of 
port holes, picture the whole thing of a 
uniform gray, and you haA^e the residence 
of the Brooklyn Mayor. The gentleman's 
idea was to allow his whole family to re- 
side on the same floor, and unless they are 
rivals of the famous old woman In the 
nursery classic, they may well do so with- 
out; overcrowding, while the servants' 
quarters are above stairs. 

"Seaconnet," "Saconnet," " Sak"— I3 
there a spelling bee going on among the 
Queen City's excursionists as we come sud- 
denly out upon the after deck ? " Not at 
all, but merely a lively dispute over Sakon- 
nefg proper orthography. 'Sakonnet' is 
ttie proper spelling," said with modest 
confidence a pretty girl at length. '-I am 
very sure that is the way the old Indians 
used to spell it." She was an extremely 
pretty girl, and had a most engaging little 
lisp, and it would have been the height of 
rudeness to suggest that the old Indians 
were not, as a rule, given to spelling, or 
to show off by remarking that the oldest 
spelling extant is " Saughkonnet, " but so it 
is. However, Sakonnet is the Govern- 
ment form and ought, therefore, to rule, 
rather than the anglicized Seaconnet. 

Up into Mount Hope Bay the steamer 
passes, by the Bristol Ferry Light, at the 
point where Captain West's comfortable old 
farm house nestles among the trees, with 
Fall River far to the northeast, and the 
awe-Inspiring pinnacles of Mount Hope on 
the left hand ; then the narrow draw of the 
bridge rises before us, rwlnd and tide are 
in our favor and we thread the needle 
successfully, and the little boat glides ' 
deftly through and enters the east- 
ern arm of the bay that is called for un- 



SAKONNET POINT AND LITTLE COMPTON. 



89 



kno'wn reasons tlie Sakonnet river. At 
Tiverton Heiglits we, pause to take on ice, 
and the deck hands indulge In badinage 
■with the gi'inning, "weather-beaten old. fel- 
lows that line the wharf ; then steam on 
through the Tiverton basin and down to- 
ward Stone Bridge Village and the second 
needle's eye. The pretty hotel known as 
Stone Bridge Cottage has gone into 
new hands, the former proprietor not 
having been vastly encouraged by his 
first experimental season. It stands airily 
and picturesquely on the sit© of the former 
Lawton House, and looks a pleasant place 
enough. Various summer cottages have 
sprung up of late all along the eastern 
shore here, and it may not be long before 
a gay little Queen Anne wUl cap the 
wooded summit of that green little morsel 
of an islet lying just below the second 
draw, through which we now also shot tri- 
umphantly. 

" Heard y6u and Captain Ricketson had 
a bad time getting through here last time 
you came," observes Captain Pettey, the 
wheel spokes flying through his hands. 
" That was the worst tide we've known for 
years— got stuck here myself the next 
day." 

"And what are the prospects for wider 
draws ? " 

" Well, not very bright just now. The 
Old Colony Railroad has, so to speak, 'sat 
on it,' and there will have to be another 
agitation and a few more shipwrecks be- 
fore anything |ls done now." 

But the Queen City is a small and safe 
little boat, and passing the draws is, from 
her decks, but a mUd and momentaiy ex- 
citement. 

Full of frolic the little steamer waxes 
now, and tuts merrily up and down the 
long green swells, to the singing of the 
wild south wind. Over the crags to the 
southward and up the sides of the dark 
red lighthouse, the feathers of foam are 
whitely flying, and above the soxind of 
the vessel , plunging through the seas, 
comes the pulsing beat of unseen breakers. 

Into the quiet dock the vessel swings ; 
a half dozen carriages wait on shore, and 
from over the Inland roads that cross 
the meadows, a quiet party of equestrians 
have ridden (to meet friends. A dozen 



farmhouses are in sight to the eastward, 
half as many summer cottages, that of 
Dr. Gardiner's of Providence, the most 
pretentious, away 'on a rise to the east- 
ward, and, praised be Allah, not a bowl- 
ing alley or a merry-go-round near at 
hand. Nothing but a house of entertain- 
ment a little way down the grassy road, 
and just beyond it, a 'stone's throw from 
the red granite rocks and the tossing 
ocean, the Mecca of pilgrims, the Sakon- 
net House. Not a pretentious hotel, but 
a big red cottage of some 40 rooms, 
every one filled, broad verandas and 
pleasant parlors, and a table at which an 
epicure need not scoff. In the cosy little 
dining room. The house has been open 
since '86 under the management of Mr. 
J. L. Slocum of Providence. 

For long years, however, the Point has 
had its devotees, and the dozen farm- 
houses have sheltered summer boarders 
these 30 years. One Providence family, 
that of Mrs. Thomas Brown, has sum- 
mered here regularly for a score of years. 

Yet the Point will never, with its 
present facilities, be 'a stamping ground 
lor tourists, lying, as it does, the length 
of the bay from Providence, a three- 
and-a-half-hour's sail; 20 miles overland 
from Fall River, and an arm of the bay 
Interposing between it and Its distant 
Newport neighbors, who are iif>t greatly 
given to gadding. 

A veritable land's end is Sakonnet, 
tipping the modest heritage of the Tiver- 
ton and Little Compton folk, dwelling 
apart between Massachusetts and the son. 

Standing on one of its ocean-lashed 
pinnacles— 

"On eliffs by clouds invaded, 
With wreck of. stxjrms upbraided, 
With wraih. of waves bedinned," 

and looking southward with a telescope 
of the proper power, there is an excellent 
view to be had of the South Pole on a 
sufiiciently clear day. 

The place is unlike any other on our 
Rhode Island coast. Right off shore, In- 
deed, the rocks and breakers have the 
same familiar look that Newport, Conan- 
Icut and Narragansett Pier rocks and 
breakers wear, though the picturesque red 



90 



PLEASANT PLACES IN lillOBE ISLAND. 



granite bo-wldors add touches of warm 
color to the landscape that seashore rocks 
are ■\vont to lack. 

Did ever any one sail to Sakonnet and 
come homo disappointed? Breathes there 
a man ■v\uth soul so dead, who ever to 
himseK hath said, "I don't like Sakon- 
net?" Qniot little corner that it is, it 
has all the grandanr and heauty of the 
•wild jMaine coast, the breeziness and 
freshness of the wind swept meadows, the 
strength of the hills and the majesty of 
the sea. Unspoiiod hy hordes of excur- 
sionists with the ine\dtable peanut bag 
of the adult and bobbing balloon of the 
juvenile, unpolluted by any disreputable 
Inhabitants or fourth-rate hotel, it offers 
sweet, wild freedom and rest to the seeker. 
Its one hotel, the little Sakonnet House, 
stands at the very oceim's edge, the salt 
spray moistening one's face as he paces 
the ocean piazza in a storm, and with 
the ceaseless murmur of the waves on the 
shingle in gale or calm. It Is now en- 
larged to twice Its former size and the 
wide piazzas run entirely about tht; house. 
The broad windows of the cozy dining 
room look directly out upon the Atlantic 
and the dim far shores of Narragansett 
Pier with the high vague landmark of 
the Hazard tower peering across seas. 
Its rooms are quiet, airy and inviting, its 
cuisine almost the best on the coast with 
the "real coiinti-y vegetables," cream and 
butter, and its fish, one hour struggling in 
the net, and the next sizzling In the pan. 
More Pro^'idence people patronize Sakon- 
net than any other coast resort — James- 
town, Newport or Narragansett. 

Its lawns are now Improved and beauti- 
fied by flower beds. Henry B. Franklin 
has now a handsome cottage close by the 
red Sakonnet House, and Its yellow walls 
and dari' red turret make a pretty bit of 
color against the green of the meadows 
and the blue and white of the sea and skj'. 

Opposite the Sakonnet House an out>- 
door clam dinner is now served for those 
who wlsli, and the old restaurant also 
flourishes. These are the only distrac- 
tions of SaUounet. Jiisewhere are the 
rolling fields, the high sand dunes and 
the marshy hollows, the spreading shore 
and cavernous clltt's of West and East Isl- 



and, lovely In a calm llJie that In whlol 
we so easily recall It. The red-bro 
rocks reflected In long waving lines In 
the crystal clear water, the hazy white 
clouds sailing again m the glassy mirror 
below, with only a ti'emulous ripple whea 
the song of the south wind suddenly rose 
and piped In the rustling reeds. In the 
salt pools along shore dozens of crabs 
with buttei-fly backs sidle and swim ; star 
fish and anemones and paper nautilus 
have their haunts along ttie shore, and 
everyone finds fasclantion In that marvel- 
ous pehOie beach on the south shore, 
whose like Is not found on Khode Island's j 
coast. 

Mke the admirable youth in that sub- 
tle vehicle of moraUty, the reading booK, 
we regard, morning, noun and evening In 
turn as the most deiiglitfiil hour of the 
day ; but when dusk descends upon the 
water as we stroll along the rocky shore, 
and the sunset light flushes tlie faint and 
distant siiis, wiille the wind lulls and the 
air grows quiet and hushed but for the 
breakers' sobbing, when tlie wee salt lake 
that nestles among the hillocks turns to 
a sea of glory fading to grey,— then we 
are quite sure it is best of all. The 
best tonic for mental and physical ex- 
haustion is . this ozone-laden air— 

"BlnwlnR o'er fields of dulse and the gardens 

and grottoes of ocean;" 

absolute quiet and rest are here, and 
sound sleep that comes for the asking, 
wherein the breakers' voices come not as 
a disturbance, but a lullaby. 

And when one leaves this enclianted 
corner, if leave he must, there are three 
ways to get away. He may be taken to 
Newport, and'Set down at Taggart's wharl 
or the cKtt'; he can be taken by carriage 
to Tiverton, there to connect with train 
for Fall Kiver or northern stations ; or he 
may return by boat to Providence. And 
in tluit case, 1 jt him bless his lucky !?tars 
if he see the steamer pass by Church's 
factory, for If he pause tbere to take on 
'• phospluites" he will sail to the very 
port of Pro^lden(■e wrapped about in not 
exactly an odor of sanctity, but In a very 
"ancient and fish-like smell," Indeed; bnt 
let him not grumble, for what has he 



SAKONNET POINT AND LITTLE COMPTON. 



91 ■ 



;ome out lor anyway, U not for a change 
)f air? 

Sakonnet's shore Is rtch In aquariums 
ind curiosities of the deep. (Starfish, 
inalls, tiny crahs, anemones and Portu- 
pies'fe men-of-war are frequent finds, and 
IS for tlie pebhle toeach on the south 
shore, Detween the sand hills and the out- 
ying rocks— if the Oriental story-teller 
lad substituted pehhles for—" and the sec- 
md ant brought the second grain of corn, 
J! King," his life might have been pro- 
onged still more indefinitely. And what 
strange sound comes out of the deep, ail 
ilong the southern shore, mingled with 
iie retreating wash of the waves? The 
ptndlng of countless stones that strew the 
)cean bottom, one against another? Oh, 
ao. Indeed, it is the mermen and the sea 
Idmgs grinding their teeth in rage to be 
balked of a mortal offering. 

For that there are mermen as weU as 
svater babies who can doubt? And as 
(Qngsley conclusively puts it, "the wise 
Drofessors have no right to say that no 
Boater babies exist until they have seen 
10 water babies existing; and that, mind 
rou, is a vei-y different thing from not 
seeing water babies." 

The beautiful ribbons of kelp that come 
ip here, fluted and fringed in all shades 
)f lovely browns are proof positive of 
teminine vanities below the waves. 

The inland roads are pleasant, too, and 
ibout two miles away the artist Burleigh 
has his cottage. The road northward over 
the " horseshoe curve" is an interesting 
one, and six miles eastwai'd one may come 
apon the dotted black lines which divide 
fellow Rhode Island frohi pink Massachu- 
setts ; though I fear me the geography 
colorists are of the impressionist school, 
and, while producing effects pleasing to 
the eye, are somewhat untrue to nature. 

But let one get over to West Island or 
Its eastern companion, a huge rock split 
La twain and di^'ided by a roaring flood 
of waters, and joined again by a wire 
suspension bridge, 100 feet in length, built 
for the convenience of the club fishermen. 
Let him stand on the wild parapets of the 
huge rock masses to the south, and, buf- 
^et^d by gale and bewildered by the roar 
and wash of waves, in deep sounding hol- 



lows below, look first to seaward over the 
hea^-thg billows and see the infinitely dis- 
tant ocean meet a sky-Une unbroken by 
cloud or island, and then landward over 
the sloping sunny pastures and the quiet 
shores, whose population at this vantage 
ground may be with ditticulty estimated 
to be a dozen ; and let him say, if it is 
like anything else on our bit of Atlantic's 
borders. 

West Island has for years remote been 
the property of a famous club of 30 mem- 
bers—principally New Yorkers. Bass was 
the much-sought, highly prized and popu- 
lar fish, but of late bass have died out or 
sought other waters, and the sport is not 
so ardently prosecuted. Fortunately, 
however, other fish abound and the club 
still flourishes. 

Petticoats were said to be tabooed on 
the island, or the wearers thereof, but if 
such be a law it is not rigidly enforced, 
for we saw some when we were there. 

" If you would like to visit the island, " 
said Mr. Slocum to us, " go down to the 
point where the little landing is, wave a 
handlcerchief, and a boatman will put off 
from the island." 

This seemed a simple process and a 
harmless experiment which we resolved to 
try. We betook ourselves to the point 
among a hopping multitude of tiny toads, 
that rushed frantically out of snug bur- 
rows in the dry sea-weed, and fled to left 
and right. We waved our handkerchiefs, 
and— it was quite like a fairy tale— a boat 
was instantly to be seen, like James's 
"Solitary Horseman," putting off from the 
island wharf. Across the deceptive plain 
of waters, West Island seemed to lie close 
at hand, but the boaftnan who ferried us 
over said it was almost a half-mile dis- 
tant. The club buildings, with the ex- 
ception of one rather pretentious cottage, 
are plain, unadorned structures, mostly of 
plastered stone. But from the massive 
causeway of iron-bolted granite that 
bridged the outer rocks to shore, to the 
hen yard in the rear of the club houses, 
everything seemed buUt " for keeps. P' A 
garden, prohflc in all sorts of " sass," in 
the fertile spaces between the rocks, 
whole families of clucking hens and peep- 
ing chickens and a browsing cow, showed 



92 



PLEASANT PLACES IN liUODE ISLAND. 



that the Jovial club men were not depend- 
ent on continentiil domain for the good 
things of earth. The term of ishind resi- 
dence Is limited to two weelis, and the 
number lioldijig possession at once is a 
half dozen, so that hi the season's round 
the whole club may have its share. But 
there are coolvs and menials also abiding 
here, and each club man has a " clium- 
iner"— a baiter and retainer who must, 
beside his daily $2, be feed lavishly ; the 
sailboat which carries the clubbers to 
Newport costs them $1 50 each, as It might 
an outer barbarian and to say nothing of 
the assessment levied on members at the 
season's close It costs a pretty penny to 
maintain even this free and easy life. 
Crossing the broad causeway, strengthened 
by massive breakwaters of granite bowl- 
ders, one comes upon the favorite fish- 
ing stand— the great fissured cliff that 
risi'S sheer out of the boiling sea caul- 
dron. All about its edges are the iron 
stands that prevent trespassing tidal wave 
or energetic bass from palling the angler 
out to sea. Once, years ago, a Fall Elver 
gentleman was washed off this very crag 
into the leaping breakers— as some say, 
lulled sheer off by the strength of his 
catch, and others narrate that in the ex- 
citement of playing his bass, he faUed to 
see the mighty encroaching wave that 
swept him down. Be that as it may, it 
is a spot where one would not care to 
linger in the mad revels of a sou'wester. 
In the outermost crag, one can at one 
moment peer down into a black hollow 
fissure wliere only the hollow gurgle of 
the retreating ebb sounds and at the next 
be deluged by the flying plume of spray 
that is springing up twenty feet above it. 

"Oh, do you hear the thunder 

On Darramona's rocky isle, 
The Tvild waves sweeping under 

The ghostly cliffs of dark- West Isle?" 

sang one of us. Three winters ago in a 
wild storm the bUlows arose and knocked 
at the doors of the lighthouse north of 
West Isle. They beat and they battered, 
and refusing to believe in the social fiction 
of "Not at home," burst In and flooded 
the idtchen, thirty feet above high water 
mark, and left the two keepers barren of 



fresh water. Fortunately some liquid 
coffee escaped t)ie salt baptism, and the 
twain drank sparingly thereof tUl tlxe 
waters lulled enough to let them Venture 
landward. 

The western cliff of the Island Is an- 
other curiosity, higher even than the 
others, and with a summit broad and level 
enough for tlie site of a small village. 
Poised liere in Isolated grandeur, the only 
one of its Idnd or, indeed, any other, la 
a black slate bowlder, 200 feet from 
ocean, and we one and all said "Glaciers." 

Long we lingered on West Island, 
haunted by memories strange and sweet, 
and as we disembarked again we said, 

"Take, oh boatman, thrice thy fee, 
Take, I give it willingly; 
For all unperceived by thee. 
Spirits twain have crossed with me." 

Said it to ourselves, that is; for otherwise 
the boatman might have interpreted our 
pensive quotation literally, and he got 
qiiite enough as it was. 

It is a pleasant seaside stroll among 
the few pretty cottages that dot the 
shores and the rising meadows ; some 
day the general public wiU awake to 
Sakonnet's loveliness, and tlien will the 
cottagers and the boarders in the quiet 
farm houses lament the good old days of 
peace and bliss ; but meanwhile the Point 
is an Ideal resting place, visited, only by. 
refined, and appreciative guests. There iS: 
no pleasanter sail possible from Provi- 
dence, for by no other route is a tliree 
lioiirs sail available without more or less- 
rough handling by the indiscriminate bil- 
lows : when one returns by the same boat, , 
there are three hours on shore, but the ■ 
Sakonnet House has always open doors, 
and sun.set tempts one to linger. Then 
Is iho quiet little nook at its fairest; a. 
green hill lises near the rocJcy shore, , 
where one may climb to see the day die ; : 
far across the bay the sun drops golden i 
behind the Kingston hills, the land grows; 
black and the billows foam whiter In the 
da.-k along the rocky shore ; the sweet 
little voices of the friendly sand pipers 
sound plaintively as they hover fearlessly 
I'j ; tlie crisp sweet smell of gi'owing 
tilings blows down across the pastures 



SAKONNET POINT AND LITTLE COMPTON. 



93 



and mingles -with the pungent salt odor 
of rock weed and Irish moss that the At- 
lantic tosses at one's leet; the gold and 
criLiaon die, and the night creeps up out 
of the vast Atlantic, and In its wake 
twinkle the beacons from far Beaver Tail, 
Brer.ton's Reef, Point Judith, Whale Rock, 
Hon. and Chickens, Cutty hunk. Vineyard 
Siaincl and distant Gay Head. The At- 
lantic guards are all on duty, and the 
cheery glow from the hlack shadow of the 
ligblh'mse tower out ta the surf answers 
them hack. Reluctantly one seeks at last 
the shelter of the cosy little hostelrj% and 
the ceaseless waves sing an aU-night's 
lullaby. Surely, the Rhode Islander 
whose heart is not wholly turned to 
faslii(tn and gayety must place Sakonnet 
first on the list of our multitude of sum- 
mer resting places. 



■^ I O livelier industry is plied during May 
1^ and the early part of June on the 
J New England coast than the scup 

fisheries ahou't the craggy point of Sakon- 
net, at the coast corner where ocean ends 
and Narragansett Bay begins. 

The Sakonnet House, perched at the 
vei"y herder of the sea-swept granite rocks 
and undulating line of roaring surf, is one 
of the first to open, and though few take 
advantage of the fact except a party of 
gunners from Providence, whose yearly 
rendezvous it has long been, it is worth 
one's while to be on the spot when the 
fishing boats spread thickest on the bay, 
and the gray lines of countless " leaders" 
of seine stretch well over toward the New- 
port cliffs and up into the ciuieter waters 
that flow by Isaac Wilbur's chicken farm. 

Scup migi-ate northwards like birds, in 
vast and gregarious companies. Sakonnet's 
ocean-piercing point seizes them first and 
most profitably. But the time and man- 
ner of their autumnal southward voyaging 
are secrets that no man has yet fathomed ; 
It is doubtless in deep waters, yet warm 
with summer heat, that they return to 
winter haunts. 

Clustered about the apology for a 
breakwater— for even the staunch little 



Queen City, Sakonnet's one link with the 
metropolitan world, cannot always make a 
landing in these tumbling waters— are a 
half-dozen fishermen's shanties, and 
down by the south shore, with the air 
full of the never-ceasing crescendo and 
diminuendo roar of sliding sea-polished 
pebbles in the ebb, are two or three 
others. These are the habitat of the 
" gangs, " Church's and Brightman's, and 
independent parties, taldng the entire 
precarious net profit instead of the smaller 
but certain salary ottered by the large cor- 
porations. Below the low-water mark the 
salt waters are free to all, and the gang 
that early in spring sinks its seine first 
and establishes its bobbing barrel buoys 
as a token of claim pre-empted, is best 
fellow. Some lively rows usher in the 
scup season's advent, but, as a rule, the 
same gangs establish themselves yearly 
in the same spots, and always in rough 
water. Perhaps the disturbed waves hide 
better the gleam of the entrapping twine, 
but experiments have proved that traps 
set in the stUl reaches of the Sakonnet 
river yield a return of only about four 
or five barrels a haitl, to the same num- 
ber of hundreds in the swell. It is esti- 
mated that there are about $80,000 worth 
of seine stretched about the shores of 
Little Compton alone ; 500 men are some- 
times hard at it together, and Church, 
the largest owner, employs about 100. 
As to catches, it is difficult to make an 
average, as a haul of a single net will 
run to such extremes as five barrels on 
one hand and 1000 on the other. The 
fishermen say that on one occasion 2300 
barrels were captured from a single trap 
of Church's. 

If one has a day at Ms disposal, he 
can make the roimds of the fishing 
grounds and get a fair idea of the modus 
operandi, though a landlubber gets sadly 
perplexed by the sea jargon that flavors 
the explanatory speech of the obliging 
fishermen, native Yankees for the most 
part, and the majority hailing from that 
chief birthplace of fishermen, the State of 
Maine. It is also perplexing till one has 
straightened It out by furtive, pencilled 



94 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



notes, to midorsliind that -wliito fish niid 
bony fish and mossbunkers and alewlves 
may all mean menhaden, tliat llounder.s 
are flukes and sculpin are sometimes 
grunters and sometimes not; herring, too, 
may be bony fish, blue fish are rock bass 
and cunnors chogsits, and slcates are some- 
times monkey fish, sometimes old maids, 
and sometimes, in local vernacular, 
" Lyddy 's," in lionor, so they ex- 
plained, " of an old maid up on the 
Island," and whom they "were supposed to 
resemble. 

With this tangle somewhat straight- 
ened, the foreman and a stout sailor or 
two will pull round the Point and take 
visitors aboard over slippery, barnacled 
red rocivs, and pull out over the undu- 
lating green swells to where the long 
cork line of the leader terminates in the 
trap and pound. The trap is the ordinary 
seine funnel, with the large and small 
openings, through which the unwary 
school enter and find no escape. To 
right and left stretch away the arms of 
the leader, nothing other than a sub- 
marine fence, to compel the fish up to the 
central trap, the weighted net that will 
toy and by discliarge its fast filling con- 
tents into the square water pen called the 
pound, or flU at once the " carrying away 
boats" for the delivery steamers tiiat ply 
back and forth from Newport witli their 
cargo. Four boats surround the trap, one 
on each side, with three or four men to 
the boat, and beglu pulling in, closing 
more and more together as the slack of 
the net gradually grows into a dark, drip- 
ping heap in the bottom of one boat, while 
In the other stand tlie fishermen, watch- 
ful, alert, ready with their long-handled 
scoop nets to push back in the weighted 
net bottom the tangled fish tliat show 
more and more thlcldy struggling lu tlie 
net meshes. Soon the lively commotion 
of the one central spot of water shows 
that the huge bullv of the catch Is almost 
out, there Is a gleam of fins and even a 
desperate leap, high In air, of a bass now 
and then— for the sea bass jump like 
sheep, and all the pounds have a double- 
edged protection of cork-floated seine, 
" aldgin' » the fishermen call It, or the 



trap covering of seine known as the veil. 
Now myriads of fish begin to show, and 
the scoop-nets grow lively as they plunge 
into the mass and toss their contents 
overboard again, where they promptly dis- 
appear with one last wriggle of freedom. 
These are the sculplns, the goats of the 
flock, and the fishermen seem to be ex- 
ercising a careless Indltlerence as they 
scoop them out, only now and then, 
selecting one or two and tossing back, 
into the net; but the foreman will tell 
you that the surface fish are almost in- 
variably all sculpin, that they are a clan- 
nish tribe that fill the scoop nets fli-st of 
aU. 

Paster the nets fly as the bulk of the 
catch comes up, / fewer fish take their 
gJisteuuig somersault back into the wide 
ocean, and a guttering, wriggling heap 
grows higher in eacli boat, rising and 
sinking on the dark gi-een surges till one 
wonders how the four boats toil in uni- 
son. tUp comes the fishing steamer along- 
side, the Hathaway, iierhaps, the Seven 
Brothers, or the Ocean View (Icnown to all 
Block Island habitues as the scene of 
sword fishing excitements in August, but 
chartered now for the scup and menhaden 
season), and once more the protesting, 
many-colored throng are transferred, and 
once more weeded out in the process, and 
still a good many blacJv sheep adorn the 
little steamer's decks. There may be 
caught in the traps beside its legitimate 
load the skate, the sculpin, cuttlefish or 
squid, squiteague, flounder, weakflsh, sea 
trout, flatfish, butter fish, tautaug, cod, 
cunner, dogfish, sturgeon, sharlcs even, 
though these engaging monsters generally 
haunt warmer waters. A whale once 
got into a trap at the breakwater, and 
did nearly as much damage as the tradi- 
tional bull in the china shop before it was 
rid of him. It is a long list, the fish that 
haunt Sakonnet's shores, for the hotel 
proprietor can give you a list of twenty- 
three edible varieties that grace his table 
during the season. 

Away steams the little steamer to an- 
other trap and goes the rounds until her 
cargo is completed. Pacldng and icing 
are next in order, the vessel's hold Itself 
forming the huge ice box, and all hands 



8AK0NNET POINT AND LITTLE COMPTON. 



95 



set to "work, witli first a layer of Ice, then 
of fish, and so on, till the end is reached, 
and she steams for Newport, to he re- 
packed at the wharves and shipped to the 
markets as promptly as possible, Ne'w' 
York getting the chief consignments, and 
rhiladelphia, perhaps, following next. 
Duty is not yet over for the day, hy any 
means, though the most energetic fisher- 
men have been out since the first faint 
dawn. Pounds may break, and buoys 
may drift, and leaders may shift, and 
there is always more or less net mending 
to do, 'beside the rents that are promptly 
repaired when the driijping net comes up. 

In the wake of the fishing steamer are 
often two or three small boats, friends of 
the fishers. In search of a fat fish or so to 
grace the dinner table, always freely be- 
stowed as the prerogative of the fislier- 
man. 

In a successful run the " pound" is 
liUed constantly from the ever-filling trap. 
It is sometimes impossible to load and 
carry away fast enough to keep the trap 
free, and again the whole catch will not 
cover the men's daily wages. 

One season the net profits, of one cor- 
poration were $40,000, and the workmen's 
wages took out but ' $3000 more. The 
gangs who fish for themselves lay up tidy 
little sums also. George Gray, the man- 
ager or foreman for Church's gangs, is 
putting in his 35th season at Sakonnet, 
and there is very little about the fisliing 
Industry tliat he doesn't know. Maine 
fishermen, he says, are greatly preferred 
here to the local workers, for one can be 
sure of them and their steady adhertmce 
to work. They can't go home over Sun- 
day, he explained, and are always 
promptly on hand Monday morning'. Life 
In a Sakonnet fisherman's shanty is not 
the bleak and dreary thing one might 
imagine,^ though there are no softening 
feminine touches. A typical one had one 
tuge unplastered room, and an open door 
leading into another unseen. In the first 
there was a huge hotel range, whereon .a 
colossal coflfee and teapot simmered. All 
up one side of the room, cool and sweet 
■with ocean's breeze, ran a 'triple line of 
bunks, like an old fashioned steamers, 
without white counterpanes, to be sure. 



but with some degree of tidiness. Down 
the centre of the I'oom were long benches, 
the board table, set with granite ware, and 
on It still, though fish had been con- 
sumed, bread, cheese, gingerbi'ead. dough- 
nuts, sponge cake, pounl cake, jelly cake, 
and three kinds of pie. The cook, a little 
dark-eyed, bright-faced foreigner, i hov- 
ered about, and smiled deprecatingly at 
our exclamations. The fishermen are their 
o^^^l taUors, and do their own washing. 

We afterward came upon their wash 
tub in a stroll seaward. It was in a 
natural bellow in the summit of a huge 
rock that i-ose beside tt^e humbje dwelling. 
There the vari-colored llannel shirts lay 
soaking in a pool of rain water. Mr. 
Gray told us aIter^^'ard that until re- 
cently one man who furnished dinners for 
the gang had considered it necessary to 
set forth the table with seven Idnds of pie 
at once. The Down Easters must indeed 
be a luxurious lot. 

Though the run of scup 'dwindles in 
May, the gangs, some of them, fish for 
horse mackerel and blue fish all summer. 
As a rule, fisliing \Tims into jVovemher, 
and one Cliristmas even it was still vig- 
orous in Brother's Cove. 

Some of the men dry fish for their own 
use, and take home a supply secured 
while off duty— herring, mackerel, and the 
best part of the sjword fish 'Is also salted 
for home use. Many of the waste and 
useless fish are dumped ashore and sold 
as fertilizers, and Chui-eh's factory, up 
on the east shore of the island, disposes 
of thousands in this way. Storm, sea 
and broken pounds make sad loss now 
and then. In one severe southeast blow 
over 5000 barrels Avere lost in the storm. 
Though there was little wind, there was 
a tremendously high sea ; the fish were 
bruised and battered in the pounds ; the 
sand filled their gills, and they perished 
by thousauds. 

It is impossible to load and pack in 
weatjter hke this, though the speed at 
which it goes on in a favorable time is 
somethtug almost Incredible, from 400 to 
700 barrels sometimes being taken in In 
40 minutes. 

There are other diversions beside 
watching a day's fishimg. There is a 



9t) 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



charming drive northward through Little 
Compton, tirst turning westward along 
till) sliore. All along Sakonnet coast the 
house lots are taken, but very few are as 
yet built on, and only a halt dozen stand 
on the south shore. Other regular 
cottagers are H. B. Franklin, C. C. Gray, 
C. A. Franklin of Provldeoice, and Dr. 
Eddy of Fall River. Mrs. Alden of Troy 
Is always flrst to arrive at her Warren's 
Point cottage, and Mrs. Clough of St. Paul 
is a close follower. Most of the farm 
houses are filled up, Bundy's having the 
largest number, and Kempton's next. 

The quaint little gray, modern resi- 
dence of Mr. Sldne^ Burleigh is noticeably 
pretty, also that of the Rev. Mr. Slicer, 
which has an ancient gray windmill in- 
corporated in one end. The loveliest sum- 
mer home of all is the old colonial home- 
stead which recently fell by heritage to 
Miss Edith Churcli, a girl who evidently 
appreciates and has vastly improved the 
dreamy old place. 

A few miles up the road is the wee vil- 
lage known as "Little Compton Common," 
containing one of the oldest graveyards in 
the country. It is a most remarkable 



sight, the hundreds of crowded leaning 
black gravestones, gray with moss, and 
•with legends often wholly undecipher- 
able. Many stones bear dates two cen- 
turies back, and among the oldest are the 
Churches, the famUies of the old Capt. 
Church, whose name will be always 
coupled la history with King Philip's. 

Treaty rock is near here, where the 
famed treaty with the Indians was made, 
as well as the Indian rock, with its time- 
worn hieroglyphics. 

A lover of mortuary lore would be In- 
terested, In this old Little Compton bury- 
ing place, in the evolution of the cherub, 
as depicted on the head stomes. There 
are twenty-five distinct varieties, from the 
rudimentary globe with dots for eyes, a 
long U for nose, and the equality mark 
of mathematics for mouth, to the full- 
fledged simpering angel, with towering 
finely feathered pinions. The old epi- 
taphs were amusing, but the Little Comp- 
ton mourners did not appear to have 
" dropped into poetry" toi any considerable 
extent tUl the beghming of the present 
century, when the quaint spelling and 
long-tailed s's were gradually gohig by. 



PAWTUXET, OLD AND NEW. 



[Electric cars from Providence, 5 cents, 40 minutes ride.] 



(( 



D 



ID you, go to the funeral '.' " asked, 
one woman of tiae other, as they 
met on Pawtuxet hridge, under 
which the wUd waters, fresh from their 
mad, plunge over the rock-dam, iWere 
tumhling past the dreamy little hamlet 
anjd on to meet the sea. 

" Yes, I did," responded the other, who 
bore upon her arm a moist and dripping 
basket of clams. " And 'twas as prebty a 
funeral as you oould hope to see." 

" How Y/as It— pretty well -'tended 1" 

" Well, yes, 'twas, considerin' 'twas low 
tide." 

The two housewives walked on, their 
voices lost In the roar of the waters, and 
we were left reflecting. 

That was Pawtuxet — old Pawtuxet, the 
very essence of it. A slowly mouldering 
liandful of quaint old homesteads, prac- 
tically unchanged in a century and a half, 
and dependent now as then for the pro- 
visions of this world and reminders of the 
next, on the turn of the tide. 

" I suppose you will be busy to-mor- 
row," remarked a lady to the village bar- 
ber, on Friday's eve. "I Intend bringing 
my children to have their hair cut." 
I "All right, bring 'em along," assented 
the jovial barber; "but oome when the 
tide's out." 

And what general exodus does the ebb 
tide betoken? Clamming, to be sure. 
Every man Jack of old Pawtuxet's settlers 
Is out to sea, reaping a harvest of rheuma- 
tism, neuralgia and clams, and the little 
fleet float triumphantly in with the rock- 
weed and the flotsam of the next flow, 

A fishing and a clamming community, 

and a brotherhood of " odd jobbers," the 

male portion of old Pawtuxet get through 

;he year with financial triumphs Incredible 

7 



to outsiders. More than one old clammer 
clears his straight thousand a year at this 
amphibious calling. Bloomer's jewelry es- 
ta.blishment of recent date gives employ- 
ment to several natives, to be sure, and 
some of the rising generation work up in 
the city and travel back and forth In the 
electric cars, but the majority are quite 
content with a stay-at-home existence, and 
the mild excitement of unearthing the 
most succulent of bivalves with the clam 
hoe. ] 

A church and a school house boasts 
Pawtuxet, and the ultra-ambitious seek 
further educational and religious privileges 
up in Providence. The electa'ic cars are the 
only communication as yet ; where the 
steam cars stop is two miles away, at 
New Pawtuxet, otherwise Lakewood, 
which is the new name of our latest set- 
tlement, whose families to secure an en- 
during title engaged in an extremely po- 
lite though determined squabble, firmly 
refusing to endorse that anciei;t and ex- 
ploded sentiment that a rose by any other 
name would smell as sweet. 

Two Pawtuxet families, Rhodes's and 
Gardner's, have been engaged for some 
years in the lucrative employment of let- 
ting row boatsi for pleasure trips up the 
fair and winding fresh river, and "up the 
Pawtuxet" has become a household word. 
Even when nature is " In the sere and yel- 
low leaf," the river is far from deserted, 
and is at its loveliest in the eyes of 
aututnn lovers. P.ut go down to the 
little cove below the fall, where the salt 
of the Incoming tide is felt in the sea- 
ward current of the river ; down there 
where sail boats and xow boats fairly 
hustle each other La the "off-hotirs" of 
fishing and clamming, one would think 



98 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



It an easy thing to liire a craft for an 
hoiir's sail, but It Is like trying to hire 
an outfit for an afternoon drive in the 
country. Every man owns a boat, and 
no man cares anything about letting one ; 
It is a vastly independent community. 
But rage as the disappointed would-be 
yachtsman may, he can but admire, from 
the road leading past tlie cove, and join- 
ing ancient to modern Pawtuxet, the fair 
and peaceful picture of the sheltered little 
fleet lying at rest in tlie tranquil waters 
below with perhaps a pink sunset In the 
slcy to flush the dusky waters and gild 
gray masts and glorify patcbed saUs. Over 
across the little cove, opposite the white 
leaping outline of the falls that shows 
under the gray arches of the bridge, 
rises a sound of tinkering and hammering. 




GAKDINBR'S ON THE PAWTOXEJT. 

and there, lying about under the willows 
and reposing on the green banks, like old 
salts ashore, are sail and row bouts itnder- 
golng painting, repairing, and even in 
the crude process of manufacture. The 
sloping yard, the shed and the old white 
gambrel roofed house above on the I'oad, 
are the premises of Mr. Crandall, Paw- 
tuxet's veteran boat builder and repairer. 
Under tlie old willow that shades the In- 
valid crafts. Is a circular structure hlce 
the ground plan of a summer house, and 
on It in bold and business-like charac- 
ters Is the legend " Jeanette and Jeannot." 
It has a seafaring aspect, even with its 
fringe of weeds and grasses, and on some 
former day it sailed the seas figuring as 
the top of a catamaran. Mr. Crandall's 



old house was once used as a barrack and 
gunpowder storehouse in Revolutionary 
days. Across the road, opposite, where a 
grass grown eminence overlooks the bay— 
for we are on " the Neck" now, and left 
old Pawtuxet behind when we passed the ■ 
cove— was once a veritable fort, erected 
for a time of need, wMch hapjjily never • 
came, and still giAong name to the mod- 
ern liouses now— homes built for summer 
occupancy— and witli the exception of the ■ 
Chase house, opposite Mr. Crandall's, and 
the Day place just beyond, the avenue is 
lined Avith modern and rapidly growing i 
houses. ! 

The Chase house is the oldest on the' 
Neck, and Mrs. Cliase relates that thirty 
years ago, when the house was one of 
eight which comprised the Neck's sole 
population— the Day place being another— 
she and her husband had an opportunity 
to buy tlie entire Neck for 9*400 1 That 
they did not do so, Is no doubt a matter 
for present regret, when they reflect that 
single house lots now bear prices mount- 
ing well up into the thousands. A queer 
little brick house, partially whitewashed, 
stands near by with closed and barred 
doors at the corner of the aA'enue. It is 
the property of the Watermans, and rumor 
says that they have declined an offer of 
$20,000 for the house and lot. It is 
an ancestral possession, 150 years old, 
and retained merely as a family curiosity 
and heirloom. Occasionally its owners 
open it and make it tlie rendezvous for a^ 
clambake or fish fry or such lUie junket- 
ings, but for the most part it stands 
silent and deserted. It is in these same 
family annals that tradition narrates the 
death of an old gentleman who in the 
early years of tills century occupied a 
house standing where the present avenue 
runs, \^^len the great 181.5 gale swept 
the salt bay waters and the turbulent 
Pawtuxet together up the roadway, this 
erring patriarch, who refused to budge 
from his house when the waters were 
rising, gave utterance to these historic 
words, "If my liouse goes, I go." He 
did go. His wife was borne to high and 
dry land through water up to the bearer's 
waist, but the partner of her joys and 
sorrows was swept from his moorings with 



PAWTUXET, OLD AND NEW. 



99 



tile flood and the wild south, •wind, and 
"was fomid next morning in his flooded 
mansion far up stream -with Ms life gone 
■out with the tide. 

Pawtuxet Neck is almost the one place 
on our salt river wliich is purely pictur- 
esque, attractive, and filled with intelli- 
gent and agreeahle people. Its pleasant 
and spacious cottages high along the 
river frontage, and embowered in foliage, 
possess the agreeable, peciiliarity, one and 
all, of causing the beholder to feel sure 
he is getting the finest view anywhere 
oMatuahle, till he comes to the next one. 
Beginning with the Rufus Greene place^ 
the oldest and perhaps the most homelike 
scenery of all the summer cottages, and 
ending with the hit of a Horton cottage 
down on the point, they are everyone fair, 
inviting and in holiday trim. Austia's, 
West's, Spicer's, Wrights, Dr. Millar's— 
these all front on the bay and are among 
the finest. 

Bloomer's half-dozen little cottages. 
Icoldng across a picturesgue salt cove 
where the wide and beautiful grounds of 
the Taft place terminate Jn a small grove 
of birch and poplar at the water's edge, 
are a group of neat and well-designed 
summer homes, whose equal is scarcely to 
be found for the same outlay anywhere 
along the bay. Eastward lies the old 
grass-gTown Avharf and the newer red one, 
leading out to tlie picturesque ?nd hos- 
pitable club-liouse, founded on a rock in 
the salt waters and which every summer 
6ees lively times with Its half-dozen re- 
gattas, where the feminiae elemenL of 
fair ladies and sail boats contend for the 
hearts of male admii-ers. The club-house, 
the cottages and many of the finest dwell- 
ings on the Neck, were designed by archi- 
tect F. W. AngeU, of Gould & Angell, 
whose OAvn summer house here, though 
by no means the most pretentious, is per- 
h.aps the most artistic of any at the Point. 
Shingled with the soft gray of cedar, sun 
and rain Itated, with broad piazzas and 
Dutch dodrs of cherry, with interior fin- 
ish of red wood, hard floor-, and walls 
with dado of stained burlap, walls and 
ceilings of rough plaster, tinted a pale 
gold and applied with an artistic slap 
dash, chambers also variously tinted, and 



with the seaside proprieties deferred to in 
rope picture mooldlngs, and with the 
most enticing little windows of all shapes 
and sizes peeping out of alcoves north, 
south, east and west upon the flowing 
Pawtuxet and the salt sea. On a panel 
at the turn of the staircase, burnt on In 
shaded browns, we read In fanciful letter- 
ing the name " Cedar Side," and the date 
of its buUTilng. The two huge dolphins 
disporting themselves on panels on either 
side the entrance have been gravely pro- 
nounced by an ancient native fisherman 
to be "something like a fish he's caught 
down below, but didn't know the name of." 

Far down at the point's extremity, 
stands the old oyster house, deserted now, 
and, drawn up on heaps of oyster shells 
above the daily baptism of flood tide. Is 
the old watch boat, a safe and favorite 
play ground for the children cf summer 
sojourners. The oyster beds have moved 
down stream ; sewerage affected them. It 
is said. Eastward, sticldng up above the 
waters like a melancholy wreck, is the 
crumbling foundation of the old " Spin- 
dle," the beacon that tottered to Its fall 
years ago, and round which fisliing boats 
are always hovering. A faint, sw.^et odor 
fills all the air down here— a scent which 
is neither from rock-weed or hay fields, 
but seems a mingling of both. It rises 
from the sweet clover that grows here in 
sparse and desultory patch— the elusive 
plant, which when you pluck it, causes 
you to say, " Oh, It is not this after all." 
But gather a handful, with its fragile 
white bloom, take it home and let it dry, 
and it will prove a dainty sachet. 

Far across to the right— for there are 
some fine old places over in old Paw- 
tuxet— one sees the ample grounds, the 
massive old elms and the white walls of 
the Butler place and its neighbor, the 
Alexander house; away beyond It, the 
Country Club hold their junketings. In 
one of these old homesteads near Paw- 
tuxet, lives a man who cherishes in their 
origlaal state all the little properties and 
possessions of his wife who died years 
a;go ; her dresses, her work-basket, her 
favorite chair- none -of all her little be- 
longings has he suffered to be touched by 
a vandal hand. There may be something 



100 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



touching in such constancy, but there Is 
something vastly morbid, too. 

Far across the river rise the blutfs of 
Elverside and Camp WMte, and far across 
the river, too, ply the steamboats, -which 
advertise to stop at PaTftuxet during the 
summer, reser\'lng to themselves, how- 
ever, the agreeable right to "change -with- 
out notice," and causing many a -wrntlifiil 
Pa-wtuxite to put la many a bad quarter 
of an hour In baleful meditation on the 
-wharf. A ferry ran across to Riverside 
at one time, an arrangement that met 
-with approval, but that, too, being " sub- 
ject to change -without notice," lan- 
guished and died. I observe that two 



long benches have been recently erected 
on the wharf, from whlcli it is to be In- 
ferred that the hearts of the summer 
sojourners or the Continental Steamboat 
Company cherish hopes of steamboat con- 
nection next year. 

But let not Pawtuxet be in hast« to 
fill up— as she is, fair Pawtuxet is simply 
perfect, even housewives admit, when con- 
veniences city tradesmen are loth to be- 
stow flourish and abound, and where a 
thing la perfect, a change must mean a 
change for the worse. So we leave her, 
seated by the sea, and flushed with sun- 
set radiance ; and haUmg a car, are home- 
ward bound. 



FIELD'S POINT. 



[From Providence two and a lialf miles. By steamer, 10 cents ; by Pawtuxet electric cars, 5 cents.] 



PROVIDENCE Is a favored city. Its 
diverging car traciJS, radiating to 
north, south, east and west, hring 
Dne la a tew minutes ride not only to 
pastures green and beside stUl waters, hut 
ilso wlthtn e'asy walking distance of the 
shining blue plain of salt sea that pene- 
trates our modest territory, and weU-nigh 
severs it iu twain. We take a, Broad 
street car to-day, for the brisk south 
freeze brings an alluring sea breath with 
.t. Most westward bound cars have now 
1 n#w and interesting feature added to 
;helr view— the monument on the square, 
with its polished granite pedestal upbear- 
ing the well-known form of Mayor 
Doyle, whose calm chiseled features 
seem to gaze with bland and ma- 
jestic benevolence : airectly down upon 
the hill-cllmbtng passengers. Even now 
at almost any hour of the day Uttle 
P'oups may be seen gazing upward with 
itfectionate Interest at the massive figure ; 
3ut our course leads us too far away, 
ihough a hard-featured working woman 
jeside us leans eagerly forward hoping to 
!atch a glimpse of It, and announces with 
)rideful pleasure that "her husband used 
;o go to school with him when they was 
&oys;" and we express gratified aston- 
shment. 

Trinity square, which we presently 
3ass, has profited b^ the despoiling of the 
;;!athedral square to makei place fo"r the 
lew monument, and the Stars and Stripes 
win now flutter aloft between churches 
md burial ground on gala days, and the 
folden angel that " shows which way the 
Nind. blows" will sound his trumpet over 
:he heads of the pious dwellers on Clms- 
:ian Hill. Does everybody know the pet 
lame of the Swedenborgian Church on the 



square ? It Is called the " Heavenly 
Wedge," and its significance may be 
learned by walking a few paces down 
Bridgham street and gazing at it from that 
vantage ground. It would seem a some- 
what needless assertion to add that the 
Swedenborgian Church is not composed 
wholly or even principally of Swedes, had 
not experience shown us that the contrary 
is a popular delusion. 

Here is the cosy little brown cottage 
within the cemetery walls. Does the 
good housewife alone at nightfall have 
dread anticipations of spectral visitors ; 
and is her snowy linen cheerily flapping 
on the Une never converted in fearful 
eyes into an eerie dance of restless 
ghosts ? " Buried from his late residence 
In Grace Church Cemetery," a funeral 
notice read a while ago, and perhaps 
puzzled readers. But it was all right, and 
meant only this little cottage, for Death 
would not even spare a familiar dweller 
on his border lands. 

Our attention next turns to the ele- 
gant residence on the corner of Dartmouth 
avenue. Its novel and effective finish of 
polished cypress wood makes it a charming 
feature of the landscape. It is the home 
of Mr. I. B. Mason, and, together with Mr, 
Potter's handsome new house on Trinity 
square, form notable additions. 

Bu* it is not houses that we came to 
see, and we journey till they grow liter- 
ally " small by degrees and beautifully 
less," for there are yet remaining a num- 
ber of quaint little old-time houses far 
out on Broad street beyond the park. Is 
not Broad our longest street? for we 
noticeci on one of those funny little cot- 
tages, -just as we strolled past it to take 
our return car, the number 1570, which 



102 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



Tvas doing pretty well for Pro\'ldence. We 
aUght just tills side of the old trotting 
park, whore a big sign announces, coupled 
with a guiding hand, " Field's Point." 
Years ago there was no path across these 
plains and hills, but now a hard-beaten 
road winds among the daisied fields. 
Somewhere along this road we found a 
small thicket of tlie plumpest, the most 
enticing young tlumble berries 1 It does 
not ma Iter just where, because wo intend 
to go back there and get them ourselves 
whon they are ripe. 

The strip of blue, sparkling in the 
South, broadens as we advance. In the 
strong breeze tiny white sails flit Hive er- 
rant butterflies along its surface. Mid- 
"way between the shores lies Starvegoat 
Island, looldng like a long steamboat 
overgrown with foliage ; and the flag pole 
at its prow carries out the illusion. One 
would not think, looldng at Starvegoat, 
that It was big enough to boast a pond of 
Its own with a boat on it ; but such is the 
case. The long, white breakwater that 
bounds it glistens in the sunlight. Its 
barrier against the invading shock of 
south-coming waves is ample in ordinary 
weather, but if in some tremendous tidal 
disturbance "a mighty egyre rears its 
crest" and charges upon it, the dwellings 
of modest little low-lying Starvegoat will 
go to be playhouses for the mermen's 
children. 

Dark green between us and the shore 
lie the verdant salt marshes, with treas- 
ures of shell and seaweed lurking in their 
tangled pipes of reed and lakelets linger- 
ing as an earnest of the flood tide's re- 
turn. It is over these moist meadows 
that the breeze snatches its choicest 
aroma— the salt and spicy smell that fills 
one lilce food— for a time. But before 
the road drops to their level, we turn to 
the left and tramp through the fruitless 
fields of daisy and sorrel to reach the 
highest hill summit. After a century of 
wear and tear, it still keeps the form of 
the old fort, thrown up in so hot haste, 
though all too needlessly, when our Brit- 
ish cousins were expected to come sail- 
ing up the bay, their war vessels belching 
hostile thunders and lightnings. Across 
the bay on Fort Hill is its twin, and be- 



low us, on the point, is a third one. But] 
this elevation is not one to be scorned. 
From our lofty seat on the old grass- 
grown ridge we may view the city if we 
like, though we prefer other views, or 
we may see the long green point off which 
Conlmicut's light shines by night, away 
down where I*ro"\ldence river becomes 
without question Nan-agansett Bay. ^Vlong 
the Pawtuxet shore the many pretty cot- 
tage roofs show among the foliage, and 
over on the east bank an almost unbroken 
front of green liides the thicldy clustered 
summer settlements, and with It deprives 
the obser'N'lng stranger of the knowledge 
of good and e^'il beliind. Some of our 
shore resorts are delightful places, but 
there are a lew on the east shore that 
attest a growing fondness among certain 
citizens for dust, heat and garbage-be- 
decked roadways, and general hubbuh. 
Field's Point, close to ProNadence as it 
is, is never anything hut clean, green 
and tranquil, and the pleasant cottages 
that cluster along its southern banks are 
every one in^'lting. 

Over opposite is picturesque Kettle 
•Point, where it is said the first Ameri- 
can steamboat was "built, and we can make 
out the red roofs of the Squantum Club 
buildings among the gray craggy rocks 
and reedy shores. A steamboat passing 
throws the waves of its slow wake with a 
resounding slap high against the distant 
wharf and the rocks that chance to be in 
bathing. We can see the tossing wliite 
plumes of the evanescent surf from here. 
A saU boat off Sassafras Point— so named 
because of a singular lack of sassafras — 
plunges and courtesies in a mad dance, 
and as suddenly is stUl again. Overhead a 
plover flies whisthng. There is no other 
sound but the hooming of the bees in the 
fragrant clover heads that have scaled the 
fort, and with a valiant troop of butter- 
cups, taken possession and planted their 
colors. Their weapons are only the num- 
berless green spears and lances that old 
mother Nature sent to their defence, but 
the marauder bees defy them, and 
flounder dustily about on their very points. 
Far to the north stretch the strange bU- 
lo-\vy Field's Point hills— hills unlike any 
other in the State In contour and vegeta- 



FIELD'S POINT. 



103 



tlon, sliort, close and always green, though 
barren of tree or shrub ; and for every 
hill there Is a corresponding hollow. I 
am convinced that the whole neighbor- 
hood might be made one vast level by 
simply slicing off the hUls, inverting them 
and clapping them into the nearest hol- 
lows, where they would fit to a. T. 

There Is something about this strange 
billowy region that seems oddly familiar 
as we stand meditatively on our ram- 
parts ; and suddenly it comes to us— it Is 
like the model of Palestine at Chautau- 
qua. That tallest summit to the north, 
crowned with the snow of dasies, is Her- 
mon, the Providence river speedily be- 
comes Jordan, and for want of something 
better, the Field's Point settlement will 



resolution. We gaze In speechless amaze- 
ment at this mystifying spectacle. Do 
they take the bridge in at night, or is 
there something the matter with our eyes 
—possibly with our mental faculties ? 
Still slowly the top of that bridge is 
gradually abbreviated, and resolves itself 
into a long Une of slowly moving coal 
cars, drawn by a hidden engine on shore. 
Much relieved, we resume our journey. 

Field's Point is stUl in curl papers, so 
to speak, and we have the whole shore 
practically to ourselves. The current 
that sets strongly around the Point has 
changed its shape greatly In past years. 
Though it is now ebb tide, and quite a re- 
spectable tract is ours to traverse, as we 
journey around it listening to the foamy 




FIEJLD'S POINT DINING HAIX,. 



do as Jerusalem. Yonder is the brook 
Kedron, and Jacob's well; now if the 
smallpox hospital on its lonely elevation 
were but tenanted— but let us be thankful 
It is not, and pause here. By no means 
a hideous feature of the landscape is it, 
albeit somewhat barren and shadeless. 
But we thlQk of that miserable httle 
shanty that travellers on the Worcester 
road may see near Berkeley— a plague- 
stricken looking hovel enough lying across 
the misty marshes to the left and a dreai-y 
cluster of gravestones suggestively near 
by. Surely who enters there leaves hope 
behind, if it has an interior to match. 

As we turn at last to descend the hill 
a sudden, terrifying sight greets us. Up 
toward the city a long railroad bridge 
built out over the water is slowly moving 
shoreward— slowly, but with an air of 



slap of the waves on the beach and trying 
to imagiue ourselves on some distant 
" stem and rock-bound coast ;" yet the 
narrow white strip of dry sand In the 
centre shows how little the advancing 
tides leave to boast of and make one feel 
hke chanting Aunt Tempy's opening ad- 
dress in her Cape Cod exhortation : 

"Lo, on a narrer neck o' land, 
'Twiit two onbounded seas I stand!" 

and bring vividly to mind her closing 
peroration to the " benighted critters that 
stand before me this evenin', a straddlla' 
this poor old hopeforsaken Pot Hook I" 

What has become of the myriads of 
dainty scallop shells, wMte, golden, crim- 
son and brown, that strewed the shore in 
long ago chUdhood days? Search as we 



104 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



may, not one do we find. The good old 
times are gone. 

The deepest channel Is i-lght off the 
Point. A few summers ago I remember 
passing in a steamer a line, large 
BChoouer with all sails sot, sitting com- 
fortably high and dry on the Point's sandy 
extremity, having ventui-ed a wee bit too 
near. Her crew, broadly grinning, were 
banging over Uie rail and bandying jokes 
with our passengers, waiting for flood 
tide. It seemed a very ridiculous sight, 
somehow. The Point looked very frail to 
suppox't that stateily vessel, bat doubtless 
it bas firm foundations. Field's Point 
once also furnished us occasion for more 
mirth, when an enthusiastic old g'entle- 
man of tiie party, a stranger to the vi- 
cinity, descrying the old powder house in 
tbe sand bank north of the landing, wont 
eagerly about Inquu-ing of everybody what 
it was. A wicked young man said it was 
King Philip's tomb, and he subsequently 
affirmed that it was worth that bjot on his 
moral tablets to see the air of gratified 
joy with which tliat old gentleman was 
to be descried pointing out to his family 
the last resting place of the Illustrious 
sachem. 

iNestling in the shelter of the earth- 
works back of the dining hall is the origi- 
nal Field's Point cottage — a low, old- 



fashioned, little white cottage, looking 
strangely out of place beside the red and 
brown plazzad— to coin a word— summer 
cottages near by, and with day lUies and 
white roses blooming half way up to Its 
(;aves. 

Past the bake grounds we strolled, hap- 
pily lecaKlng nocturnal feasts here, when 
caught by calm in saUing parties, and 
turned our way homeward. Had we not 
been refreshed by rest and a idndly prof- 
fered glass of ice water, we might have 
been disloj'al to our horse car, and taken 
convenient passage on the next homeward 
bound boat. J3ut our pedestrian vigor 
was good and we retui-ned over the hijls, 
being rewarded by a cbarming wayside 
picture gi-ouped for our admiring— a "placid 
pool in a hoUow, reeds and rnsbes in the 
foregi-ound, a cow standing' knee deep In 
the uni-uftled water that showed her placid 
reflection, and a whole group of them dis- 
posed picturesquely about the rising hill- 
side above, while a swampy grove and a 
group of dark cedars broke the monotony 
of the background of undulating hUls. 

A boding blue bank of clouds that lay 
low between sea and bjlue sky, drifted 
north with the wind, and before nigbt 
wrapped the city in a misty " sea-turn" 
to make our outing seem the longer, with 
its faint breath of ocean. 



NARRAQANSETT BAY. 



ONE wonders wliere 170111(1 be tlie 
summer exodus of Providence but 
for the inviting shores and waters 
Of the salt bay, and whether brief subur- 
ban railway excursions and " buggy rides" 
could compensate for the foregone delight 
of sunlight or moonlight sail down 
among the islanids, and out into the 
swinging surges of the old ocean. Our 
bay offers three thoroughfares to passing 
craft, albeit the voyager must run the 
risk of paying an extravagantly high 
toll at the niggardly Tiverton draw In the 
way of collision or wreck, for the privi- 



bridge, fitfully termed by taxpayers the 
" bridge of sighs," and catching perhaps 
a glimpse of brave FranJc Baxter, bridge 
tender and life saver, the vessel passes 
the dingy western reach of Fox Point, at 
whose wharf He the colossal New York 
steamers waiting for night and their roll- 
ing passage round Point Judith's Inhos- 
pitable reefs. From here back to the 
steamer's dock the river's banks are live- 
ly with waiting craft of all sizes and 
descriptions— the little steamers that ply 
hourly between the city and the nearer 
shore places, the bigger vessels bound for 







CONIMIOUT POINT AND SHAWOMEIT BHAOH. 



lege of passing down the East Passage, 
otherwise absurdly known as the Sakon- 
et river. It is the easy solution of an an- 
nual summer problem — our bay with its 
many waiting steamers— and quickly and 
happily answers the question, Where shall 
we take our guests for their entertain- 
ment? Even to the ignorant stranger 
our bay is beautiful, but to one familiar 
with its many bending shores and their 
history, it becomes a voyage richly sug- 
gestive. Swinging slowly first down 
through the big draw of the Point street 



Rocky Potat, Oonanicut and Newport, the 
little New Bedford steamer Harry, the 
Queen City with freight and passengers 
for far Sakonnet, the big excursion 
steamer bound for Block Island or per- 
haps just a day's sail round Brenton's 
reef and over in sight of Narragansett, 
and fartheir down the bay one will come 
upon the waiting ferryboats that ooiJiect 
dreamy little Saunderstown with Wick- 
ford, Narragansett with bustling James- 
town, Jamestown with Wickfoi'd again, 
and Wickford and Narragansett Pier with 



106 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



Newport^ the Queen of the bay. There 
Is a vast choice of routes. Upper Narra- 
gansett, however, is fair enougli to con- 
tent the eyes even with a modest little 
saU of an hour's extent. Perilously near 
the long slender sand peninsula of Field's 
Point the channel seems to lie, wltli the 
queer cropped green hUls luidulating oJl' 
to the westward, and all the crowding 
shore resorts showing faintly off across the 
water, for the east shoie tlms far leads 
in popiUarity, though in pictuieseiueness 



famed salt-water chase of the Gaspee and 
the little sloop Hannah, and the prompt 
and dire revenge of the Eevolutionary 
patriots of Providence, who, assembling: 
at the old Sabln House, set forth at night- 
fall In companies of row boats, and pull- 
ing down the Bay to the grounded schooner, . 
seized and tired the hapless Gaspee, leav- 
ing her to shoot up red tongues of flame 
to the midnight skj' and crumble into the 
black water, leaving no trace but her 
title to rochristen the old Nonqult Point. 



^■ 



:^^lss^ 



V— 




THE "CLUMP" AND ROUND ROCK. 



it compares poorly with certain opposite 
shores. The wee, rich lined islets of tlie 
Squantum Club, capped with their tasteful 
club quarters, are the gem of the upper 
river, though on the hei.t:hts above Elver- 
^■ide below, the Pomliam Club house towers 
most proudly. StarveiJoat Island, lilie an- 
other slender green steamer ploughing: up- 
stream, breaks the wide expanse of water 
and looks as though it were merely 
biding Its time till some huge flood tide 
should wholly snbmerge it. Gaspee Point 
stretches its sandy length westward just 
below, with its memories of the lar- 



Between Gaspee and Boclcy Point, once 
the prime magnet of excursionists and 
stUl leading in the way of natm-al beau- 
ties and wUd scenery, summer homes are 
rapidly gi-owing, and the trains of the 
Oakland Beach Railroad pause every mo- 
ment as they bend around eastward to 
their terminus, the railroad's namesake, 
known most familiarly as the annual 
camp ground of the Rhode Island mUitia, 
where the boys "rough it" for an August 
week, and tramp back Into town suffi- 
ciently tanned and dusty to be greeted as 
true war-scarred veterans. Eastward 



JSr ABB AG AN SETT BAT. 



107 



ill Into Coweset or Grreen-wlcli Bay, the 
aln or the vessel may pass, by lovely 
ayside and old Warwick Neck light. East 
reenwich, the most thriving town on 
lese shores, Is known far and wide as 
le seat of an academy, and the most 
jiirlshing headquarters for the scallop 
.dustry. It is puzzling In the ears of a 
)n-resident to hear the drawUng an- 
jTincement of an old fisherman here, that 



proper begins. Whether one turn now 
far eastward, rounding Poppasquash, 
and pass up mto the quiet waters of 
Bristol harbor, for a water view of 
the CLuaint and dreamy old seaport town, 
round Bristol Ferry Light and the pleas- 
ant farmhouse at the water's edge and up 
into Mount Hope Bay with its guarding 
liill, peopled with Indian history ; or 
whether he elect to try the East Passage 



..^- 




MOUNTAIN EOCK. 



3 guesses he'U " go daown t' the shore 
ad scallop it a spell." But we are stray- 
Lg too far from the Bay proper ; the real 
Lghway lies to the west of Conimicut 
ght, and la sight of Nayatt's abandoned 
lore lighthouse over eastward, and the 
jautiful summer homes on the rising 
rounds above. Thus far, Nayatt is easily 
ader in point of summer residences 
irer all the east side. Once outside this 
slut, with Conimicut left to the north- 
ard, the river ceases and tlie Bay 



and the perilous di-aws, or to take the 
Newport boat's course between Prudence 
and Conanicut, and by Coasters' Harbor 
Island with its school ship, the James- 
town, and its white^clad bands of cadets 
peopling its decks and shores ; or whether, 
last of all, he will try the wUd AVest 
Passage, most perilous, if most pic- 
turesque, as the history of wrecks along 
•its shores will show— all this depends on 
the nature of the craft in which one 
voyages, and the clemency of its cap- 



108. 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



\ 



tain. One certainly cannot exlianst more 
than one In a day's outtngr, and a week's 
diligent cruising is hardly too much to 
give one -who -wishes to assert with truth 
tliat he knows eA-,9ry shore of Narragan- 
sett Bay. Descriptions of the Sakonnet 
sail, of the four IsLiiids dubbed respec- 
tively Prudence, Patience, Hope and Des- 
pair, of Newport's harbor and of Conan- 
Icut's long green stretch, are to be found 
elsewhere among these pages, as well 
as the rough passage xin the rocking 



of the Pier with Its endless line ol 
l>reakers, and the old Hazard tower 
lifting Its head curiously across the for- 
est, tile shores are strewn with drifts 
wood, and the melancholy fragments of 
more than one wreck wasli In here with 
the tide. Northward, fortified Dutch 
Island stands as a coast guard, and the 
broad beacon of Beaver Tall light vies 
with tlie red flash of Whale Rock out 
in the raging seas, but despite their 
warning and the bellow of the huge fogi 




THE "GULiiT" AT THE "HOBSBSHOB.' 



Caswell from the Island eastward to Nar- 
ragansett Pier— an hour of delight to true 
rough Avater lovers ; but there are wild 
rocks and corners about the seldom-seen 
West Passage that are worthy of pictur- 
ing, and the several sketches In- 
serted here show better than any 
words, the lonely, surge beaten coasts 
that lie about Bonnet Point, the "Round 
Rocks" and the "Jeffrie." All the way 
from Narragansett Ferry, on the west 
shore, opposite Jamestown, down the 
high and storm-swept coast to Boston 
Neck, which overloolcs the long sweep 



horn down on Conanicut's southern point, 
tJie rocks of the Bonnet have pierced 
holes through more than one goodly ves- 
sel. Here the coast ledges and bluffe 
run hlgliest, and the outlying rocks, gold 
and brown and slippery with seawaed, 
clxLster most thickly round the stern 
coast, and though they are famous fish- 
ing grounds at a proper state of the tide, 
they are wild and weird spots, suggestive 
of wrcclc and drovralng. Inland, keep- 
ing pace with the high coast, the long 
ridge of Tower HIU runs north and 
south, and loolcs calmly down on the 



I 



N ABB AG AN SETT BAT. 



109 



■wild turmoil of tflie constant battle of 
■wind, waves and rock; and turning but 
a mile or so east-ward, the rough coast 
gives place to the calm and pastoral 
reaches of the Pettaciuambcutt river, 
gliding do^wn to meet the WTiale Rock 
beacon. 

In its entire length, our bay presents 
an almost unlimited variety of mariue 
aspects, -whether In calm or storm ; and 
when one thinks he has exhausted even 
its many resources, he ■will find that he 



ferred again to the rowboat, for treach- 
erous rockis were ready to s-tave a hole 
through the catboat's bottom, and ■with 
difficulty effected a landing on the strewn 
rocks, brown with slimy rockweed, that 
form the sombre and limited door yard of 
this unique abode. The tide was low and 
the piled rocks slippeiy, and as we scram- 
bled precariously about in search of an 
iron ladder where-with to reach the upper 
regions the keeper himself appeared, row- 
ing from the eastern shore. To out 




THE "JEFFRIE." 



has stUl a fruitfid fund of entertain- 
ment in -vle-wiug the Interior of the many 
lighthouses, some of which are easUy ac- 
cessible from terra flrma. Those that lie 
tnaccessible out in the salt water, even 
between Conimicut and Pro\T.dence, are 
but little kno-wn, and their inspection oc- 
cupied the i writer and. the artist one en- 
tire day. 

Conimicut Light, the most graceful one 
on the river, was said to be a mile out 
from shore, lying ectul-distant from Nayatt 
and Conimicut Point, but it was a short 
mUe as our sailboat sped, and we trans- 



jocular query as to which was the front 
door, he replied that they were aU front, 
and we were to go up anywhere. So up 
the slanting ladder we scrambled and 
through the hatchway up to the solid stone 
platform that surrounds the tower high 
above the restless waves. Such a solid 
structure as this great round tower Is I 
Brick, iron and stone everywhere, fit to 
battle -with -vsilder Atlantic rollers than 
are likely to break here. Builders learnt 
caution from the fate of its predecessor, 
which some eighteen years ago went over 
in the ice break-up that made ravages ail 



110 



PLEASANT PLACES IN HHODE ISLAND. 



cLo-wn the bay. Only the tower -was then 
of stone, tlie house of wood, and when it 
went, the keepc" and his young hoy went 
too, down Into the icy waters of a mid- 
winter's day. The house went over 
hodlly, battered by the huge Ice-cakes, 
flat on its side, and the two managed in 
some miraculous manner to free them- 
selves, call for help and cling untU a 
tug made its way tlirough to the rescue. 




CXJNIMICnT LIGHT. 
Capt. John Weeden, the present keeper 
of Sabin's Point Light, being on the east- 
ern shore at the time, volunteered to row 
out at sunset and light the signal in the 
abandoned tower ; while up aloft he looked 
northward and spied one isolated ice cake 
speeding down the river and heading 
straight for the wrecked lighthouse. He 
ran down with the hope of saving his 
boat, but it splintered like a toy under the 
<;rash, and the great block went on 
through the submerged and fallen house, 
slicing through it like a Imife through 
cheese, and leaving Capt. Weeden to the 
pleasing prospect of an Indefinite stay in 
the Isolated stone tower. He spent the 
night there, made a forlorn breakfast of a 
meal and tea fondu, baking johnny cakes 
thereof In the hand basin, stirred with a 
dipper handle, and brewing tea In a lard 



paU. A furioTiS snowstorm then set 1 
and delayed his rescue, but he fang tl 
fog beU assiduously, and at night w. 
taken off. 

The new tower will hold its ov:\ 
through any moderate attack. The pre! 
ent keeper, Edward L. Hunt, Is the thin 
in charge, Arnold being the first ai: 
Gray the second. A fog bell hangs alo 
in this tower, too, outside the light roori 
its ringing regulated by a weight attacj 
ment that inins in a great cylinder doTV 
the entire tower lllce an old-time clocj 
It is regulated to strike four to tli 
minute, and as Mr. Hunt wound up til 
machinery and set it agoing for our mi 
derstanding, the fishermen far and wlci 
on the bay must have looked up for a: 
instant from their exciting sport for 
possible fog bank. It was a fine vie' 
from this topmost, breezy outlook, o 
the clear morning with the calm watei 
one great sparkle up to the sun, and th 
whole land world stietchlng to the va< 
level that seems endless, viewed froi 
this height. South was the blue of tl 
ocean— but north were the waiting ligh' 
houses, and we must not tarry. 

In descending order were, first, tt 
"spare room" and various closets and o 
room; winding down another flight th 
bed room, taking the wliole round of tt 
tower, with about a 20-foot dlamete 
Such a dainty, pretty room as It wa 
with Its soft blue walls, the neat ash se 
and matting-covered floor. In the dee] 
set, arched windows, bright lambrequli 
had been deftly fitted, and the dravi 
shades tapped lightly on the casing i 
the brisk breeze. It seemed odd to tui 
from side to side and see only the glancir 
bright ripples through the open casemen 
One bane of housekeepers was sure] 
spared here— dusting. 

Mrs. Hunt was at her own home c 
land with a tiny baby, soon to be lntr( 
duced to lighthouse life, and meanwhl 
the llghtkeeper was housekeeper as wel 
Everyt.htng was In Immaculate order 1 
these delightful round rooms, and tl 
pretty sitting room, one story below, ws 
as cosy with Its gray-tinted walls and h 
viting easy chairs as the breezy bit 



N ABB AGAN SETT BAT. 



Ill 



room above. Do-wn still anotlier fliglit 
■was the Jdtclieii, convenient alcoves in 
the deep walls acting as cupboards, one 
-or two neatly curtained off. The range 
stood in the centre, its slender pipe 
backed by the big funnel case of the beU 
•weight, -which, colored like the room It 
passed through, and frescoed about its 
top, made quite an ornament in the 
various apartments. 

A "Window full of pinlfs and petunias 
relieved the omnipresent marine view that 
tbe window arches framed in on every 
side; a door led again into still lower 
depths of cellar, which we did not pene- 
trate. It was a most romantic home, and 
what a place in which to spend the honey- 
moon! Had the keeper's wife been there 
we would have asked her all about it; 
as it was we roamed about in a most in- 
quisitive manner, looked at the official 
volume on the desk, w'Mch recorded time, 
wind, weather and expenses, and whose 
leaves lay open at June 8 and 9, with the 
brief legend for each day, "Wiud N. W., 
light. Foggy." 

The small Government library stood in 
Its neat case inviting examination, but the 
literature which has fallen to Mr. Hunt's 
lot this year does not chance to be of the 
most enticing order. One or two novels, 
a bulky set of " Queens of England," a 
Holy Bible and Common Prayer, a dozen 
or so miscellaneous works, two or three 
marine works— of the whole collection, 
Mrs. Brassy's "Yacht Sunbeam" looked 
most inviting. However, Pawtuxet was 
hard by, and so was DrownvUle, the near- 
est post office, where supplies were also 
obtained, and life at Conlmlcut is far from 
being an Isolated one. It is a famous 
Ijshtag ground, and visitors are frequent, 
many fishing from the rock foundation It- 
self, and every now and then one gettuig 
storm or fog boujid, and taken in by these 
marine Samaritans for the night. It 
would have been great fun to be cap- 
tured there ourselves, and It seemed at 
one time as though we might be ; for 
when adieux were over and we were 
safely afloat again and about to "spread 
our white sail to encounter the seas," 
something parted up aloft and down came 
the whole sail in a tumbled mass. Our 



sable captain broke out in no profanity; 
he was calm, but sad. Aid was finally 
invoked from the lighthouse, and after a 
good deal of pulling and hauling, and 
being hoisted up and down the lofty 
mast, repairs were finally eflected. If 
the artist did not get a good sketch of 
Conimicut lighthouse it was not because 
he was not given time to contemplate it. 
It was high noon, and tJie sun's beams 
fervent, and dinner was hours away; our 
state was not of bUss, but it had an end. 




BULLOCK'S POINT IIGHT. 

The old lighthouse tipping Nayatt 
Point no more echoes to the tread of vis- 
itors up its winding stairs ; the first built 
on the river, it has been long unoccu- 
pied—ever since the New York steamer 
grounded on the treacherous rock mid- 
way between there and the new light- 
where the red buoy claws out of water 
like a floating lobster. Conimicut was 
deemed a safer pjace then, as vessels can 
steer very near It with safety, while the 
Nayatt Light was to the hidden rock as 
Scylla to Charybdis. Westward of the 
present Conimicut Light a long shoal 
runs across the river, whose visible ter- 
minus Is Conimicut Point, and this side 
of the tower shows no light. In the 



112 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



cottage part of the Nayatt house rooms 
are used by the coachman of the present 
oTvner, Charles Merriman, who found the 
lighthouse property a desirable addition 
to his own domains ; and children play 
In the empty rooms. 

It was washday at Bullock's TPolnt 
1-lghthouse, and white raiment was airily 
flying about the high railing like a tlock 
of sea birds seeking shelter. What the 
inmates of tliese various lofty abodes 
thought of us as wo emerged In the 



planted at appalling distances for youthJ 
ful limbs, enter the waiting rowboat 
and row over to the east shore, where 
they tie up and tramp off to school at 
DrownvUle. Mrs. Eddy remembers but 
one mishap during their stay here — a 
tumble off the staging Into the salt wat<r 
by a frisky small boy, who was plckeil 
up, however, without much harm belii:^ 
done. The somewhat limited quarters 
did not seem to trouble the household at 
all — the lack of door yard and neigli- 




INTERIOR OF OONIMICUT LIGHT. 



upper world through the hatchway lUce 
sunburnt mermaids they did nob say, but 
they were kind and hospitable. Here 
was a jolly family at the Bullock's Point 
Light, and plenty of room for them In 
the square gray cottage, with sharply 
sloping roof that stood railed In high 
above its granite foundation, with an- 
other tumble of hewn rock around It 
even scanter than Conimicut's. Here live 
the family of Joseph B. Eddy, four chil- 
dren pursuing their education under dif- 
licultles, it would seem, but managing to 
accomplish It with as much seeming ease 
as the shore folk. Each morning they de- 
scend that terrible ladder, with Its rounds 



bors' children to quarrel with, and so on. 
This was all thriftily attended to on 
shore during the day, and morning and 
evening gathered them in to the cosy 
little six-room cottage, where there waa 
never lack of fresh air. Supplies were 
brought over easily enough in the Gov- 
ernment boat, and sailboats came down 
with coal, which was hoisted up and 
dumped Into the cellar. Cisterns held 
the rain water, which was pure, sweet 
and cold ; on the whole, Mrs. Eddy con- 
sidered that her abode was more desira- 
ble than a country farm Inland; it was 
easier In a sudden dearth of household 
supplies to run ashore In the rowboat 



N ARE AG AN SETT BAY. 



113 



nd purchase than to harness a horse 
nd. (iriv& down to the " centre" in an 
solated country spot. As for neighbors 
ind visltoTS— 'Well, In the summeil season 
here were too many rather than too 
ew. Fishing parties paused here fre- 
[uently, and summer guests made it an 
ixcurslon from the down-river resorts, 
itorm has never long confined them, 
rhe ice had been the worst the recent 
emarkable winter when the Bay froze 
iver and the New York boat stuck fast 
n the ice above, gtreatly to the children's 



the low whistling rumble sounding here 
)as it does over every Ught, caused by 
the drawing wind. We peeped into the 
oil room and spied, among other pai-apher- 
nalia, two modest brass lamps with red 
glass chimneys. Were they the real 
origin of the beautiful red glow that 
flashed for miles over the dark waters, 
answering the steady white gleam of 
Conimicut? They were, indeed, and had 
we been composing poems on the subject 
would have acted as a sad damper. The 
cottage was cool and pretty with hard- 




NATATT'S ABANDONED UGHT. 



|oy. There had been some fear of the 
lighthouse going when the ice broke up, 
md invitations to go ashore had been 
many, but the family had stood by their 
dome, and when the time came the jut- 
ting point of the rocks on the north 
side had acted as a fender, and the ice 
aoe, parted by it, had divided into two 
streams and left the wee rock islet in a 
clear channel. The small fry had been 
vastly chagrined at this denouement, and 
Loud had been their lamentation that they 
tiad not felt a shock. The light room 
tiere is in a picturesque little railed dome, 
8 



wood finish and tinted walls ; is there any- 
where a lighthouse with papered walls? 
If so we have not chanced to see it. As 
we sat in the cosy sitting room, a sleep- 
ing baby tucked away on the lounge, 
open doors showinig bed room on one hand, 
kitchen on the other, with a sunny-faced 
little maiden busily at work amid the 
familiar pots and pans, it was hard to 
realize that the heaving waters of the 
Bay hemmed us In on every hand. One 
could only believe It by stepping to the 
open windows. Five years this family 
of six have occupied the little six-roomed 



114 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



cottage, the light haAing been built about 
15. AVe disappeared at length as we had 
come, doTvn the iron hatchAvay and the 
long straight ladder that led to the slip- 
pery green roclvs and the lapping water, 
one of us recei%lng a compliment as she 
departed on her trancLuil descent. A 
good many ladies screamed and cried, 
Mrs. Eddy Informed us. But Tvas it for 
us to shudder and -wail where infant foot- 
steps daily trod— with one of the very 
little heroines herself looldng smilingly 




SA-BEN'S POINT LIGHT— INTEEIOR. 

on^ Never; and down we went, and 
rowed away once more to our patient 
sailboat, drifted pretty well down mth 
the seaward tide. As Sabm's Point light 
drew nearer and Bullock's feU astern, 
the former grew to bear more and more 
a fantastic resemblance to one of the new 
sailor hats for ladies' wear— a square 
crown, a projecting rim, and then an- 
other band beneath— this being the stone 
foundation, the rim the broad platform, 
and the crown the low, square cottage of 
gray stone, with brown French roof. No 
tangle of piled bloclcs Is there here to 
climb over— the foundation stones are 
mainly huge flat slabs, some seeming to 
wave and creep In the tide that covered 
them. We were getting to be experts 
now, we proudly felt, and sldpped out of 
our frail bark and up aloft to domestic 
quarters with great agUity. If Bullock's 



Point light had seemed lilce a terra flrma 
cottage, this was even more so. This 
was the abode of genius, too, was it? for 
here in the Square, airy sitting room was _ 
a musical corner indeed— a bulicy organ \ 
supported, lUce Horatlus, on either hand— '■, 
guitar on one side and violin on the ' 
other ; across the room was a handsome ! 
and elaborate boolicase, or secretary, made \ 
altogether in the lighthouse by the keeper, ] 
Capt. John Weeden, alluded to before In | 
the Conimicut episode. A sideboard, too, i 
of home manufacture and excellent work- 
manship, graced the dining room. Here j 
Sabin was one point ahead, for the house- 
keeper was ironing, whUe her next door 
neighbor, so to speak, stiU fluttered the 
airy pennants of the family wash like a > 
whole Marryatt's code at once. 

The square roof gives four large, light : 
and pretty sleeping rooms up-stairs, the 
tower containing the liglit, rising white 
and lofty from one end of the cottage. 
There Is the least bit of a slant at the 
top of the tinted walls, and gray inside 
slmtters kept out the wliite glare of sun- 
shine on tlie dancing waters all around. 
The song of canaries sounded through the 
cottage— tliere had been birds at Bullock's 
Point, too— and all sorts of domestic in- 
dustries abounded. Down In the cellar, 
with the famiUar smell of up-country 
cellars, compounded of sawdust, bark and 
the general damp, was a furnace, where 
the eldest of the four children was ac- 
customed to make enamel In his leisure 
hours at home. Here was a mamlhoth 
cistern with a capacity of 4000 gallons, 
running dry but rarely in a most pro- 
tracted drouth, and Capt. Weeden had 
arranged a siphon connection with the 
wash tubs. 

Above, fancy work had beguiled the 
winter days for the women folk, Mrs. 
Weeden displaying a knitted spread of 
most Intricate design, fashioned by her 
own liands, and an elaborate quUt of 
tiny, brilliant bits, pieced with the utmost 
daintiness In the pattern known as the 
" tree of paradise" by her mother, who 
had spent the winter here. Some Inter- 
esting relics from wrecls were shown us, 
too, collected by Capt. Weeden in his 
many years service. The family have 



JSr ABB AGAN SETT BAY. 



115 



occupied this house almost ever since its 
founding tu 1873, the first keeper, Mr. 
Bowles, serving but two years. When the 
"lU-fated Metis" went down oflE Watch 
Hill— some twenty years ago, was it?— 
Capt. Weeden, who was in the vicinity, 
captured from the billows some elaborate 
pieces of carving, thought to have been 
purchases of the passengers. Two of 
these now adorn brackets here — one a 
bird and nest in foliage, another a group 
of stags. A wooden box with a set of 
fine china was another prize, Mrs. Weeden 
producing some cups and saucers of bril- 
liant hues and dainty design, on which 
we cast covetous eyes. 

We went up to view the light in the 
tower, of course, also a white fixed light. 
The lamp proper is a humble and ordi- 
nary afliair enough, and it is only when 
It Is set in the gleamtag crystal barrel 
that it becomes a beacon afar. It was 
always a pleasure to step from the hot- 
house atmosphere of the light-room to the 
breezy balcony without, and we lingered 
here long, picking out the familiar fea- 
tures along our "picturesque Narragan- 
sett" and hearing the history of the funny 
old oyster house down on Sabin's Point 
on the east of us. Oapt. Weeden remem- 




"ROCK FAOB AT POMHAM. 

hers when it occupied quarters away up 
on Market square, near the horse car 
station, and tlirove as a meat market. 
This true Peggoty abode was once the 
schooner Elizabeth, one of a wrecked and 
abandoned pair, the other being an East 
India merchantman, and carted off to 
Drownvllle, to be also usefully employed. 



but perversely burning down Instead. A 
newer oyster house now stands beside the 
battered Elizabeth, and the present use 
of the nondesciipt old ark is as a stable 
and workshop. 

Up on the high lighthouse platform Is a 
pleasant resting place on an elsewhere 
torrid day, and it must be almost equally 
delightful in the night and storm. Birds 
do not perish here in any numbers, the 
Iceepers told us, though they often hear 
the blow of their contact in a night of 
wind and storm. They seem to be stunned 
more often than killed, and eventually re- 
cover. It is only the little English spar- 
rows that oftenest meet their fate here ; 
and their loss ought not, I suppose, to be 
deeply regretted. 

We were off and away once more for 
Pomham Light, the last family abode on 
the river, and with the most picturesque 
founding, Pomham Rock figuring in pastel 
and oil as well as newspaper sketches. 
The original Pomham was, of course, a 
departed Indian chief, and the pretty 
white cottage with the tower at the water 
end is built on the larger of the two 
roclts, so tbat It has a goodly foundation 
some quarter acre in extent. The cot- 
tage is the most pretentious of any of 
the river lighthouses, and its keeper, Mr. 
Salisbury, is the veteran keeper, having 
occupied it since its erection In 1871. 
Visitors have been many here always, as 
the rock lies hardly a stone's throw from 
shore, and in the days when the keeper's 
very pretty daughter -was unmairried and 
lived at home, Pomham had an added 
attraction. No traces of her presence are 
here now, save the portrait oh the piano 
In the darkened parlor. In the hall at 
the foot of the stairway that winds up the 
tower to the light is the desk with the 
official volumes and the regular visitors 
book .well filled here. The cottage con- 
tains seven rooms, and the kitchen Is an 
especially spacious and convenient one. 
Quite a garden flourishes without, in the 
crannies of the conglomerate rock that is 
its under bed, and the radishes at least 
are flourishing prosperously, as we can 
personally testify. Pomham Rock boasts 
two curiosities in the shape of rock pro- 
files, one a small one best seen from the 



116 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



garden looking west down toward the 
water, the face turned to the lolt and miicli 
resembling the " old man of the moun- 
tain. " The other Is a colossal one on the 
landward side, Aislble evetn from the rail- 
road track on shore, but best seeaa In a row- 
boat half way between shore and ishind, 
and with its massive brow, its well-mod- 
eled features, mou&tache and fine chin, It 
seemed to us to bear stilking resemblance 
to a well-known M. D, of Pro^'ldence. 

Mr. and Mrs. Salisbury have the island 
all to themselves at present with the ex- 
ception of big shaggy Sailor, the successor 
to old Major, who used vociferously to 
greet the passing mariners. 



The library here is a better assorted 
one, as it is at Sabin's Point, where new 
books of travel, biography and many 
bound volumes of Harper's abound ; the 
now ones are said to be much better than 
the old, and as they are changed about 
yearly, everybody gets fair play In course 
of time. 

We had dismissed our colored captain 
on landing at Pomham, and he had long 
ago gone sailing hungrily home to his de- 
layed dinner, so the obliging young 
painter put us ashore In the Government 
boat, and boarding a train which steamed. 
In at Silver Spring, we gave up lighthouse 
inspection lor the day. 



PAR-f SEGONb. 



Inland and Upland 



IN AND ABOUT PROVIDENCE. 



THE city of Pro-vidence, crowded, as it 
Is with mantilactories so detri- 
mental to toeauty, lias yet In it 
much of the picturesque, even in its husy 
heart, and many of its environs, acces- 
sible by horse cars, are both fair to the 
eyes and historically Interesting. Like 
two distant cities are respectively the 
"East Side" and "West Side" of Provi- 
dence, separated by the last widening 
flow of the many named Blacl. stone lato 
the salt bay. The East Side, In its tree- 
grown, stately quiet, in its clustering 
univei-sities, in its conservative "first- 
family" abodes, is to the bustling, rapidly 
growing, more cosmopolitan and demo- 
cratic West Side wtat England is to 
America; and between its several citizens 
there is always an unacknowledged, but 
easily discernible, small spirit of antago- 
nism. But the West Side, less beautiful 
though it is, has dlstiactly the best of it 
In the matter of growth and prosperity. 
All cities, like all nations, grow to the 
westward; and all endeavors In the op- 
posite way must fall flat, as repeated 
history will testify. Between the two 
sections of tlie city, at tiie "gre.it bridge," 
a square of pave, highway .and mul- 
titudinous traflic, is to the southward 
a scene that Is always fair by day or 
night; the crowded harbor, gay la sum- 
mer time with pleasure crafts, large and 
small, the blue water rippling in the 
distance far between the ever-retreating 
shores, Field's Point's hills undulating 



roundly westward from the point where 
"the river widens to meet the Bay," and 
fair Narragansett stretching dim and hazy 
down to her distant islands. For the 
best view of the winding river and the 
Bay, the roof of the Narragansett Hotel 
is to be commended if practicable ; other- 
wise the spire of the First Baptist Ohurch 
over on North Main street wil> do ad- 
mirably. The favorite East Side look- 
out is Prospect Terrace, off Prospect 
street, a lofty eyrie indeed, and showing 
the city proper in all its entirety, though 
to our own eyes it shows to more ad-' 
vantage softened by distance from a more 
remote hill top than one of the seven on 
which, like Rome of old, the city Is 
founded. Providence is not a city of 
parks, though the future promises great 
things for us with the acquisition of the 
Davis estate and the prospect of Neuta- 
conkanut some day. Hayward Park, oS 
Point street, and near the salt water, is 
a young! and promising scion, but the two 
fairest, Blackstone and Roger Williams, 
are outside the city proper. Roger Wil- 
liams Park not only enjoys the distinc- 
tion bf being a remarkably beautiful one, 
but the way thereto is the most attractive 
ride that Providence can boast ; tui'nlng 
through Mathewson street, where the 
slender, graceful spire of Grace Church 
marks the junction with Westminster, 
and where perhaps the weird chimes up 
in the belfry are picking out a tune with 



118 



PLEASANT PLACES IN IIHODE ISLAND. 



clanging, hesitating -vibrance; on and 
around up Broad street, the abode of 
physicians, and where at the hill brow 
are always two rival blooming flower 
beds about two stately homes ; past Grace 
Church Cemetery at Trinity square, and 
60 Into Green^vlch street, our newest 
accLuisition as a boulevaixl, and the most 
beautiful avenue on all the West Side, 
unlovely nowhere In Its entire length, 
and with charming little side streets, 
likewise tree-shaded, leading enticingly 
away on either hand. A detailed descrip- 
tion of the park is wholly unnecessiiry, so 
familiar is It to all our own citizens, so 
easy of access to the stranger within our 




THE ARCADE. 



gates. Its carward approaches, level 
lawns, with winding walks and borders 
always gay with flowers, lead past the 
pretl^ little pavilion at the terminus, to 
that house of entertainment and refresh- 
ment known as What Cheer Cottage, that 
stands cosily at the wood's edge on the 
hill top by the beginning of the chain of 
lakes that make so much of the park's 
beauty. Here it is always lovely, what 
with scores of well-filled rowboats, plash- 
ing fountains and gliding swans in sum- 
mer ; and still more gay and picturesque 
on wlnt>er evenings, when the red balls 
hoisted to the flagstaffs down in the city 



annoimce " Skating at the Park." Half 
the young folk of ProA^ldence, one would 
tlilnk, were out on the Ice In jaunty 
winter costume, Ulumlned not only by 
moon and stars, but flaring bonfires 
around the border. It is a question if 
the park is not better patronized in win- 
ter than in summer, for it is only for a 
brief season indeed that pleasure-drivers, 
equestrian parties and bicyclists are miss- 
ing from its firm and pleasant wood 
roads. There are many charming wooded 
nooks, wandering broolilets and primeval 
swamp hollows that add largely to the 
park's attractiveness, and are more pleas- 
ing to the lover of out-door life than the 
moi-e artificially beautified portions. For 
its size it would be hard to find a more 
attractive park, in natural featui-es, and 
for the diversion of young folk It has a 
large and constantly growing menagerie, 
as well as various equipages to let for 
drives within its borders and a varied 
flotilla on the lakes. The old Betsey 
iWilliams cottage, the Roger Williams 
statue and graveyard are prominent and 
interesting features of attraction. Band 
concerts on summer evenings give the 
whole beautiful spot a double charm. 

Quite at the other extreme of the city 
is the smaller and wildei- Blackstone Park, 
close on the borders of the picturesque 
and romantic grounds of Butler Hospital 
for the insane. To reach it we take a 
Governor street car, and proceeding south- 
ward turn the tfirst majiy corners that 
emphasize the way to Blackstone Park. A 
not over agreeable impression of the 
charms of this ride would a stranger re- 
ceive at the outset, for it lies among those 
wretched shanties that defile the space 
between South Main street nnd the river; 
hovels over which one wishes he might 
wave a wizard's transforming wand to 
our fair city's credit as well as the com- 
fort of their inmates. 

But the iWay grows fairer, and on the 
heights the south breeze bilngs salt and 
spicy whitt's of sea air northward to us. 
The atmosphere Is laden with the refresh- 
ing breath of the "green things gTOwlng." 
Narrow door yards give place to ample 
and velvety lawns, and lawns to daisied 
fields, where cows are browsing. Near 




ROOEB WILLIAMS'S MONUMENT. 



120 



PLEASANT PLACES IN IlIIODE ISLAND. 



I 



our Journey's end stands a magnificent 
elm by the Tvayslde — not one of Immense 
girth and marvelous si>read of limb. It 
■would no doubt tremble before Holmes's 
fatal tape-measure— his distingulsher of 
greatness— but it Is graceful, liuxurlous 
and stately, and around Its trunk, clasp- 
ing it ■^^'ith dainty leathery greenness 
from root to branch, a twining woodbine 
runs riot. 

We whisk around a few more comers, 
pass the charming groiinds of the happy 
dweUei-s on the park borders, envying 
now and next winter conpassionating, and 
reach the terminus. Shall we follow the 
brook up to its source, where lies a less 
and lovely park, or down to its union 
vlth the SeekonJv that Huws by the forest, 
by way of the fern-bordered ra\lne ? Each 
is equally fair, and many crowding wUd 
flowers, according to tlielr season, mark 
all the way. This is a favorite spot for 
picnickers— this deep rustic glen, the 
brook tinkling merrily at the foot, and 
great overlacing trees, showing the tslvy 
in blue network overhead. In June pink 
laurel grows thickly here all about the 
grounds as the plain above. At the car's 
terminus, an omnibus awaits to conduct 
passengers to famous Swan Point Ceme- 
tery, a spot in Its tranquil beauty well 
worth a special trip. Many beautiful 
monuments are in its enclosure, flowers 
of the fairest, and it« entrance gate is 
unique and charming. But we may 

also from the park limits take the path 
that leads northwest to the hospital 
grounds, straymg to right or left as 
daisies or buttercups beckon. We pass 
the funny little hamlet that lies in the 
wilderness, distinguished by a barn whose 
clapboards were shot on, instead of be- 
ing applied in the usual way. We make 
this statement on our own authority, but 
it Is self-e^'ident. We pass through the 
fence opening and take the beaten path 
that leads up to the hospital. The woods 
are cool and silent. Do the birds feel 
the spell of the sad spirit that broods 
over this tranquil place ; For bobolinks 
and thi-ushcis wero jubilant without ; and 
here, listen as we may, not a bird note 
sounds. And now, if one wUl take the 
first beaten path to his left, or, in other 



words, foUow up the first brook be seea? 
toward its source, he will come upon one 
of the most beautiful nooks in the neigh- 
borhood. A silent woodvale, bounded I 
and shut in by lofty, gloomy slopes, dark , 
with pines and musical with the liquid i 
babble of the broad, shallow brook, whose 
barrier some kind hand has broken by; 
stepping stones. Ferns grow here in ; 
riotous numbers, and the sunshine leaps 
gladly from the unresponding ranks of : 
pine to their fragile, feathery fronds that i 
seem to create a sunshine of tlieir own i 
where they lie. Some venturesome spirits 
have Alsited this spot, for midway be- 
tween it and the main path a sturdy . 
beech is covered thickly with names and 
dates, 20 to 30 feet upward, and all dis- 
torted with the spread and wear of the 
growing bark. 

The red walls of Butler Hospital gleam 
presi'intily through the trees ; the tangled 
undergrowth gave place to well-kept 
slirubbei-y on velvety lawns, and the 
whole long picturesque building stands 
before us, quiiet and peaceful in the 
afternoon sunshine, as if it were the 
abode of saintly spirits rather than the 
shelter of shattered and clouded minds, 
a restless multitude for whom unceasing 
A'igilance is needed. 

The outer doors stand hospitably open; 
but the barred and gi'ated windows belie 
th.?ir welcome. Now and then on the 
quiet air comes the faint sound of a 
woman's moan, or a man's voice raised 
in dramatic and meaningless declamar 
lion, or, saddest of all, a burst of im- 
cimny laughter. But the walls are thick, 
and inside the building one would not 
suspect its character. Every corridor 
has its hea\'y door with lock and key, 
and it is a work of time for an official 
to make his way from end to end of the 
mammoth building. The establishment 
is wisely and judiciously managr'id, and 
there is no doubt that its inmates are as 
comfortable here as it is possible lor 
them to be. The %aolent patients have 
llv'ir o^vn place, and their vagaries are 
not left to work harm on the sensitive 
nerves of the monomaniacs or sufferers 
from melancholia. The Avards are bright 
and sunny, and tastefully, some of them 



IN AN I) ABOUT PROVIDENCE. 



121 



elegantly, furnished. The central sitting 
rooms, from -which doors open into sep- 
arate chambers have their hooks, flowers, 
and sometimes mnsicajl instruments, fur- 
nished by patients or their friends. Tlxe 
tumates often retain their love of mel- 
ody, even when they discard all other 
diversions, and musical entertainments 
are quite common. Of course among the 
many confined here, a large proportion 



trusted, and s.9rious disturbances are 
rare. Indeed, some refractory inmate is 
often put on his best behavior to earn 
his eveniag's diversion. And if now and 
then some vagary not on the programme 
crops out among the participants, why, 
the audience, being sympathetic, is la- 
dulgent. 

The head nurse has been in her pres- 
ent position for twenty-five years; it 







JENTHANOE GATE, SWAN POINT. 



are persons .'of culture and refinement, 
and among them they often contrive an 
evening's programme that woiJld be a 
credit to people supposed to be in full 
possession of their faculties. Tableaux 
are particularly enjoyed, some of the 
ladles developing a great taste in cos- 
tuming and arranging. As for audiences, 
the doctors and attendants exercise their 
discretion in issuing invitations. As a 
general thing they know who are to be 



would be hard to fill her place. Changes, 
too, are disturbing to the patients, and 
the death of Dr. Sawyer, the former su- 
perintendent, was a great shock to many 
of them— a thing not to be believed. 
Walks and drives are a daily diversion 
for thofiie who can be trusted, and it is 
seldom that any mischief arises thereby. 
The grounds are delightful, with their 
flower beds, tennis and croquet groiuids, 
hot housi9s, and the lovely picture of the 



122 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 






placid, sparkling river in the distance; 
but the minds clear enough to appreciate 
Its beauties, must also be alive to the 
fact that they are prisoners without es- 
cape, and to the faculties so dulled that 
they do not realize their bondage the 
fairest scenes pass unnoted. 

Visitors are not shown through the in- 
stitution. Being a private establish- 
ment, the public lias, ol' course, no right 
to demand admission, and it would be 
highly unpleasant botli to the patients 
and their frk-nds to have their infirmi- 
ties made a show. The friends and rela- 
tives visiting patients are generally 
shown to their rooms by as private a 
way as possible, and altogether the wliole 
establishment affords a happy contrast 
to the horrors of similar institutions of 
which we have lately heard so much. 

We retrace our waj^ to the car, but of 
course do not take homeward passage 
tUl we have visited the spring, more easy 
of access than Neutaconlianut's, be- 
ing, as almost everybody Jmows, just 
through the fence and down the path a 
bit at the horse car's terminus. There, 
from a very weHl-ventilated tin cup, 
which caps a post in a public spirited 
manner, we drink our fill and return re- 
freshed. 

Another institution well worth seeing, 
interesting in itself, and mth delightful 
surroundings, is Blmhurst, the famous 
Catholic school on Smith street. It is a 
short ride in the horse cars from the cen- 
tre of the city, and the delightful old home- 
steads with their rambling wooded, lawns. 
The old Eaton place, Bailey's and others 
ar« so English in character, so tranquil, 
quiet and country-llkt' that it seems 
scarcely possible tlie rural spot can bo a 
part of buslling modern Providence. Elm- 
hm-st itself stands in the gi-ounds of 
what w-as formerly the Grosvenor estate, 
and remodelled from the old mansion is 
still a striking and picturesque building. 
Beside the school proper within its walls, 
patronized by wealthy and r.-fined young 
ladi(>s from all over the country, a sepa- 
rate life is maintained by the "relig- 
euses," who live hero a strictjy conven- 
tual life. Tlie whole atmosphere of the 
place is quaint and foreign, and to make 



tlie rounds of its tranquil, hushed do- 
mains, and meet groups of the bright- 
faced young pupils In their modest school 
costumes, chatting volubly in French, the 
language ol the house, is like stepping 
suddenly into the pages of a foreign 
boarding school storj^ Not far from 
here He the lovely grounds of the Davis 
estate, r.ecently made over for a>ark use. 
And now that Neutaconkanut, with ita 
wild wooded heights, may soon also be- 
'jorne a public fesort, we shall have parka 
worthy the growing city's size. 




THE OATETEDEAIi 



To reach Neutaconkanut, we take a 
Ilainfi,eld street oar, pass up Westminster 
street and by Monument square, with 
the imposing frontage of the new Y. M. 
C. A. building, tlie Doyle monument with 
the well-known figure looking far away 
down the sloping highway, the massive 
and grand Cathedral of Sts. Peter and 
Paul, beautiful without by night with the 
moon rising silvery between the two 
square towers, their high battlementa 
sharply defined against its light, and the 
shadows black In the arched recesses ; 
beautiful always within, the stranger is 
fortunate who chances to gain fidmisslon 
on a week day. 

On past Christian HUl— a sad misnomer 



m AND ABOUT PBOVIBENCE. 



123 



rlginaUy, it is said, and tlien all along 
Qgli street, of ■wMch an exhaustive de- 
Bription is not perhaps needful. We 'will 
nly say of It that -whichever "way one 
oes along It he is said to go "up High 
breet," and also that It has the pecu- 
arity of heuig an extremely charmtng 
tareet in the middle and an extremely 
Isagreeable one at elttier end. Its east- 
m heginning Is aU groceries, and mar- 
ets and its -western terminus is all saloons 
nd dirty children. Midway lie some of 
ar handsomest residences, and the 
Umpse of the parade one gets at Parade 
breet with its graceful elm avenues Is a 
ery picture. 

I 



when their birch wigwams dotted the 
green and level meadows at its base, 
which is, to say. The home of the squir- 
rels. And while we are airing our phi- 
lology we would also say that "squirrel": 
itself is neither old Saxon nor Indian, as 
one might guess, for the Indian's squirrel 
was an " adjidaumo, " which is not half 
so pretty. No, squirrel has the honor of 
descending by a very roundabout way, 
one would think, from the Greek sMa, 
shadow, and oura, tail. 

Meanwhile we are nearing the cool 
green hUl, clad just now in Its delicate 
misty robes of spring's fairest green. A 
hundred cloud shadows play along its 




OLD JiESSER 
Pausing at Olneyville square for the 
gi-ess of denizens of that outer city— as 
nlike Providence as if it were not joined 
it by dense acres of dwelling houses- 
re turn down Plainfleld street to the left, 
nd enter tlie region of ilow rents. One 
:iay get, on almost any of these side 
treets, a very cosy, neat and spacious 
enement for $8 or $10 monthly that 
rould be double that price farther down 
own. Probably nowhere at an equal 
Istance from the city's centre are 
ouses to be rented so cheaply as here. 
And now, stretching its high green 
arrier broadly across our pathway, lies 
reutacohkanut hUl, named by the Indians 



MANSION. 

many dimpUng hollows and rocky sides; 
and the clustered woods that staed along 
its base, and climb boldly upward beckon 
enticingly in the cool breeze. One tree 
alone upon the sulmmit looks colossal out- 
lined agatast the sky, and a group ol 
children out maylng who come into view 
for a moment, on the summit seem to be 
sporting In an elephantiue sUhouette, and 
might be Dr. Holmes's fractious young 
giantesses and the bowlders that dot the 
hillside below, plums from their rejected 
dinner as they went 

"Screaming and throwing their pudding about, 
Acting as they were mad." 



124 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



I 



Our driver moans to give us our 
money's worth. He goes and goes till 
the " jumplng-oft-place" where rails give 
place to dusty roadway lies only a few 
feet heyond us. and then the tinlde of 
bells ceases and we step out. If we 
were to aslc any one of the passers-by 
wJiat was the name of the hill before usi 
those who did not say Uticognltt would 
no doubt say ■ T^nieoguitt, ;nid as for iKs 
Spelling— well, if ever a spelling match Is 
held that way, and Its ranks are hard to 
reduce, let the name of that hill be put 
out and they would fall lilie leaves in an 
autumn gust. But the preponderance of 
eN-ldence goes toward Neutaconlvanut. and 



cious raids on garden or orchard, am 
lowered barways that give escape to cat 
lie. Or we may go around past the liltl* 
chapel to the riglit from the car track and 
take the road hUlward that leads by tlw! 
new nursery. 

Persons contemplating extended toarji 
through tlie mountains this summer woulfli 
find it excellent practice to come out and 
ascend Neutaconkanut daily a few times, 
To the happy man who found he could' 
reach its summit unbreathed, Washington 
or Pike's Peak "would have no terrors. 
For ourselves, we paused half way aiid 
sat down to A'lew the city. From ht-i-e, 
wrapped in tlaat soft, smoky haze which Is 




ACOTE'S HILL. 



at any rate that was what the Indians 
called it. It is a long, long hill. Go up 
Atwell's avenue, Manton avenue, the 
Hartford road, PMinlield street, Roger 
Williams avenue or Cranston street, and 
stUl one may see tlie sun set behind its 
long ridge. But here are its local habi- 
tation and its name, and here the west 
•wind blows most freely down its breezy 
Bides. We may pass to the soutii of the 
hill tUl we leave the gardens and ploughed 
fields behind, and then climb via some 
farmyard way, if we are few tu number 
and modest, in port, otherwise we will no 
doubt be banned as tresspassers ; for pic- 
nic parties are gaining the m-will of the 
hillside dwellers by thoughtless or maii- 



an accompaniment of spring days and 
brush fires, it looked vastly picturesque, 
softened by distance and orientalized by 
tlie big red gasometer's dome and the 
liospltal turrets. The many lines of lin- 
dens down its distant streets show their 
green heads among the housetops, and 
neai'er at liand the wood patches and hUl 
pastures on Rocl^y Hill across the valley 
seem almost summer-like in their luxuri- 
ance of verdure. Roger WUliams avenue 
and its en-s'irons are being rapidly built up 
of late, and houses in wliite, yellow and 
brown stand thicldy now where a few 
years ago were only sloping pastures. 
Silver Lake at this eminence, too, seems 
more entitled to its name than it does on 



I 



IN AND ABOUT PROVIDENCE. 



125 



sarer view, and sparkles like a veritable 
wel from the far depths. But away m 
le liazy north lies the fairest scene, 
here the undulating hills lie distant and 
•eamlike along the pale horizon. One 
»ur rises aloft above the others, and 
3 green woods show only a faint and 
nder blue. It is Chepachet's hill called 
cote's, no doubt. And away still lur- 
ler north, are not those the hills and 
lies of peaceful Lmcoln, where the 
xarry men toil among the weird, gray 
com and white crags of the Lime Rock 
Ins 1 Southward we know Narragan- 
;tt, with Its hovering sea gulls and 
hite-winged sails, lies a-dreamlng this 
liet afternoon, but no Narragansett 
?igns to reveal itself. It has wrapped 
self in a white mantle of haze and 
timbers unseen. 

Refreshed, we turn agata to the liiU, 
id leaving Its smooth, green sides that 
[■op with velvety sweep down into fruit- 
il gardens where laborers are busy 
ucklng the acrid " pie plant, " we plunge 
ito green and rock bestrewn forest. Tra- 
ition says there Is a spring somewhere 
Bar, and we essay to find it. We follow 
irious enticing little paths that suddenly 
lave off at nowhere at all, and when at 
ist we come upon it in a level field on 
le summit, it is not very much of a 
jring to look at after all, and it has a 
ery ordinary frog sitting in it ; but the 
'ater is delightfully cold, and we should 
rink a great deal if we had anything but 
ar fists to drink from. But it is some- 
ling to have found It. 

In the muddy swamp are growing quan- 
ties of the coveted long-stemmed vlo- 
st with dark centres like pansies, and 
e are doubly glad we came. And when 
le twinkling leaves of a glistenmg 
lack birch invite us to pause and par- 
ike, we feel that Neutaconkanut leaves 
othlng to /be desired. Our course car- 
rard leads us tiMs time around the 
juthern side of the hUl, and gives us 
pportunity to feel that we are In the 
3al country when we pass the cosy 
ttle old-fashioned farm-houses, with 
lossomlng lilacs up to their eaves, and 
lie tranquU sounds and sights of farm- 



yard life aU about. Porty minutes take 
us again to oiu- starting point. 

Another pleasant suburban trip is by 
way of the Cranston horse cars to the 
vicinity of Dyer's Nursery, the winding 
Pocasset, and .the very quaint and old- 
fashioned homestead of the Dyer family, 
midway between the Print Works and 
Dyer's Nursery ; let us journey thither. 
Ask any one to direct you to the old 
Dyer Homestead; it is but a few minutes 
walk, and it is a Uttle old-fashioned house, 
standing so red and so low at the foot of 
a giant elm that It reminds one of the red 
toadstools that nestle beneath the trees of 
the forest. 







GNAEIiBD PEAR TREE. 

But to make assurance double sure, 
look for a grotesquely gnarled and dis- 
torted pear tree, and finding it be sure it 
is the old Dyer homestead you are con- 
templating. In the great 1815 gale the 
pear tree was a Jlthe yoxmg sapling, 
wrung and twisted so thoroughly by the 



12(3 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



fierce wlilrl-wlnd that It found it easier to 
continue gro-\ving alter that eccentric pat- 
tern than to untwist itseK and stand up- 
right. So there it stands, capped -with a 
sparse unfruitful crown of leafage, a mel- 
ancholy warning to gldily youth disposed 
to scoff at the ancient adage of "as the 
twig is bent the tree Is inclined." 

Across the road long years ago stood 
once an even more eccontiic old pear tree, 
which preferred the horizontal to the per- 
pendicular process ; but that is long since 
dust and ashes, mostly tlie latter. 



Charles Dyer, the builder and his capa- 
ble AYOikraen wrought with tlielr own 
hands all the framework, the finishing and 
the furnisliing of this interesting little 
cottage. Look at the hitclies on the doors, 
rough-hewn things of iron ; they, too, were 
home made. And when, not many years 
ago, some repairs were necessary, the 
workmen complained, of the ditticulty they 
found in di-awing out tih© old nails, they 
found they were the original old rou?h 
iron nails of home manufacture at which 
they were tugging. Step into what was 




Draw near to the brown frontdoor, and 
above the four green bottle-glass tiles, 
considered highly ornamental in their day, 
read, faintly showing stUl beneath modern 
paint, the ancient date: «1726.» That 
is when the house was buUt by Charles 
Dyer, a worthy descendant of the ancient 
Dyers of Wales, and the youngest son of 
William and Mary Dyer, the historic Mary 
hanged on Boston Common. Seven gene- 
rations have been born within this time- 
worn but still staunch little red house, 
have grown up, married and died, and 
been laid away in the quiet little grave- 
yard over on the peaceful hillside. 



in days of yore the "best room," perveii 
ed, alas 1 to the prosaic use of a pot 
bin— see if it was not a sumptuous apart-" 
ment in its day, with its solid wall of 
panelled red cedar, polished and glittering 
once ; and the space from door and win- 
dow frame to ceiling a solid panel like- 
wise. Veritable eighteenth century win- 
dows are they all, taU and narrow, and 
with eight panes of glass where two 
would now be placed. 

Fireplaces— hardly a room in the cosy 
little house but has Its own ; wide and 
cavernous, though the country-folk are 
said to have shaken heads ominously In 



IN AND ABOUT PROVIDENCE. 



127 



he days of their bu'lding, and prophesied 
hat they " couldn't draw" on account of 
heir and the cMmney's small size— four- 
eet aperture. The chimney was another 
Tonder, too, In those days, heing a reek- 
ess extravagance in the way of Imported 
iricJc; all the chimneys round about had 
)een of native stone. 

Out of the parlor opened the " best hed- 
oom," a small square room finishe<d in red 
edar, hut mow ruthlessly painted over an 
sthetic green by vandal tenants, who evi- 
dently didn't relish the labor of pohshing 
he natural wood. Curious little cupboards 
Spen evei-ywhere about the turns and cor- 
lers of the old chimney ; look at the heavy 
Itohen door. A solid and enduring frame- 
ffork stUl, but so "punky," as the boys 
ay, that one would think a stone slung 
igorously at it might go right through. 

The house is no longer inhabited, ex- 
ept by farm (hands belonging to the great 
rhite-pUlared house hard by, the heart of 
tie farm nowadays. The little red cot- 
a,ge makes an admirable storage place 
3r the miscellaneous junk that collects 
bout a farm, and among it is a great 
imbering chair as big as a sleigh, said to 
ave been brought over from Englnd by 
ome remote ancestor. But it certainly 
|ldn't come in the Mayflower; in that 
luch-crowded vessel it would have 
wamped them all- 
in this quaint and cosy little homestead 
iharles Dyre, having finished his labors, 
bode in peace and satisfaction, reared 
is lamUy, and finally his son John in- 
ugurated his wedding day. It was on 
bis auspicious morning, one hundred and 
Orty years ago, that he planted the elm, 
(.ow towering proudly ialoft, and bidding 
air to stand for as many years more. As 
iras the custom In those ancient days, 
ohn and his blushing bride and a goodly 
ompany beside, set out from beside this 
Id front door for their wedding journey, 
f^hich was to be an all day's trip on horse- 
ack. At home, good Mistress Dyre— for 
tie name was thus spelled till the present 
entury came in— Mistress Dyre and her 
oadjutors bustled about to have the wed- 
ing supper In readiness on their return, 
t was a bounteous repast ; and though 
amUy history has not chronicled the 



menu in its entirety, it is recorded that 
the chief dish at the banquet was an im- 
mense pewter platter heaped high with rye 
doughnuts. 

When the first Charles Dyer took pos- 
session of this goodly land, the Pocasset 
river, that now in Its windings makes a,l- 
most an island of the picturesque penin- 
sula, was but a trickling thread of water 
in the valley, over which one carelessly 
stepped in a short cut to the city, and 
primeval savages dwelt m wigwams hard 
by. Kesenting the invasion of the pale 
faces, most of them betook themselves to 
the remnant of their tribes down In the 
Narragansett county, but one young girl, 
becoming attached to the Dyers, remained, 
dwelling in her wigwam and performing a 
part of their household labors. Among the 
Dyers departed, in the graveyard on the 
hillside, her gravestone stands, gray with 
moss that has been accumalating since the 
last century. Larch trees wave their lacy 
boughs, and drop their graceful brovm 
cones all about the mossy ground, and the 
blue stars of myrtle bloom cover all the 
moTinds in spring itime. Down beyond it 
is the spreading marsh, sometimes a good- 
ly lake, and again a green and fern-bor- 
dered marsh alone, picturesque, but mala- 
rial, according to the needs of the Print 
Works, far below. 

It was over across the fair and undulat- 
ing meadow that Amasa Sprague was shot 
down with a. bullet from a hidden ambush. 
The last Dyer who dwelt in the little red 
house, istanding by the old mossy weU, 
heard the fatal shot fired, but did not so 
much as glance that way, supposing it to 
have been sent by one of the frequent 
gunners, and it was only hoxirs later, when 
the news of the murder spread abroad, 
that he recognized its fatal import. 

Between the well and the old kitchen 
door are traces yet of the original flagging 
that made a pavement Hke a floor. 

It is a remarkably peaceful and lovely 
spot, even now, about the quaint, little 
old-time homestead. Hardly a home sO 
near the city seems to be so in the heart 
of the real country, and, stretching its 
high and dark green ramparts all along 
from south to north, lies the distant hill 
of Neutaconkanut. Dyer's Nursery, hard 



V2S 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



by, lovely as it Is, is too ■well known a spot 
to call for description here ; and, if one 
■wants stUl more of a jaunt for his outing, 
he may discard the city-hound car 
from the Print Worlcs, turn homeward in 
the other direction, past the nursery along 
the lovely river road, lined with Ibeech 
and other forest 'trees., cross the bridge 
over the leisurely Pocasset, and joumey 
to the horse car barn over Arlington 
Heights, Tvitb its few fine d'welUngs, its 
magnificent avenue, lined with trees that 



land, one comes upon the romantic little 
nook with double surprise ; down through 
a rocky glen, a wild, wide and babbling 
brook rushes under green forest trees, 
■with a foamy tinkling fall and a rush 
over countless rapids. Hard by rise the 
gray and picturesque ruins of an old 
miU that gives the place its name. It Is 
but the merest little corner, but Its every 
view is a picture, and the wild little spot 
has always its devotees. It is an Idyllic 
nook in which to spend a summer day. 








^^ 



RUIN OF HUNT'S MILL. 



the desecrating hands of " curbing com- 
mittees" are soon to lay bare, to every- 
body's indignation, and the fine'st ^lew of 
Neutaconkanut to be had from any van- 
tage ground. 

Over beyond East Pro"vidence lies an- 
other haunt of artists, picnickers and 
lovers of nature generally— Hunt's MUls. 
One reaches It hy way of an omnibus 
starting from the Arcade, with a short 
walk still further eastward after allglht- 
Ing at the terminus. In the middle of 
a flat, barren and generally unattractive 



A huge pine grove lies not far beyond 
down the same road, and its sombre and 
murmuring gi-een depths make a cool 
and secluded resting place. Once upon 
a time trailing arbutus grew here, and 
does now in a faint-hearted and despon- 
dent fashion, but too sparingly to warrant 
a jaunt therefor. 

To east, west, north and south. Provi- 
dence has its Inviting outskirts, but those 
briefly sketched here are among the best 
kno^wn, most accessible and attractive. 

Perhaps the pretty -village of Oak La^wn 



I 



IN AND ABOUT PROVIDENCE. 



129f 



IS not to 1)6 considered a suburb of Provl- 
lence, but as it is but three mUes beyond 
bbe city's terminus, and itsi business life 
is wholly within the city, a. description 
Df it here, with its famous May Brealifast, 
nay not be out of place. 

Pirst of aU, bear In mind it is Oak 
Lawn, with a respectful double capital. 
Nothing so fills the soul of the patriotic 
resident with a sense of injury and insult 
is to receive his letters addressed to 
'OaMawn," with a little "1." On old 
naps there will not be found any Oak 
Lawn, but from years remote there has 
jeen a Searle's Corner. The new name 
came in in 1875, witih the post olticei, es- 
;ablished in a corner of the neat little 
station, whose floors and stove and 
.amp and lamp chimneys are the pride 
>f the road for glistening neatness. The 
djescendants of the original Richard Searle, 
ffho occupied the oldest farm, and gave 
:he place name (though it was Sarle in 
Jiose days), yet constitute the chief popu- 
ation ; and it is a puzzle with which the 
lew comer ineffectually grapples, to 
straighten the tangles of the oomplicatjed 
•elationsliips of the resident Searles, which 
ihe old folks so glibly recite. 

The old home of the village's founder 
)n the huge farm now largely divided 
into house lots, stUl attracts admiring 
iiotice as the fairest old homestead of 
the place. On the road leading west from 
Jie railroad and now known as the Tur- 
ler farm, its giant elms are a landmark 
:or a long distance, on the lawn stretch- 
ing down from the old yellow farm- 
aouse, draped with climbing wisteria and 
crumpet vine. It was some 350 years 
ago that occupancy was definitely clironl- 
S;led here, and the oldest elms date back 
to the same time. On the hillside of the 
Hour oaks, which alone justify the name 
it the village, is a cluster of gi'aves 
,narked by rough stone slabs, whither one 
:)y one were borne tlie bodies of ancient 
servitors from the old farm house, when 
\egxo slavei-y flourished in Rhode Island. 
;t is along this hUlside and from the oak 
summit that strangers are eagerly led by 
ihe beauty loving residents, for a view of 
!7lld rolling hillocks, distant wooded hlU- 
iops, and the meaijderlng course of the 
9 



leisurely MCshanticut, a typical brook of 
delight to the summer boarders and 
strollers of leisure, as it ripples in pictur- 
esque bends and broadenings down from 
Ralph's pond, in the heart of the dark 
and silent cedar swamps. Moshanticut 
was the ancient name of the sheltered 
brook valley, and aside from records and 
traditions, there are constant evidences 
of the old Indian occupancy in the arrow 
heads and otiher implements found on the 
old farms, and the symmetrical oval 
mound rising from the western bank, said 
to have been modelled by the encamping 
tribes. 

As near the city as this dreamy little 
village lies— but three miles from Cran- 
ston Print Works— there is many a Provi- 
dence resident who cam only reply in an 
uncertain way if you mention its name, 
" Oak Lawn, Oak Lawn— that's Where they 
have tlie May breakfast, isn't iti" Though 
this annual festivity is by no means 11b 
only celebrity, it is what has made Oak 
Lawn's name familiar through all the 
country side. A feast growing in popu- 
larity and success since its founding In 
1868, it was m '92 a special occasion, 
for it celebrated its 25th anniversary 
and commemorated the season by a' 
souvenir booklet, prepared wholly by 
residents, with a history of the BreaJcfast, 
the town and the old Quaker churcli, one 
of the oldest in the country, where the 
festive meal has been spread since its 
fcundieg. A lady greatly interested in 
the local town history, who has for years 
been gathering up the bits of curious old- 
time fact and story, prepared for the 
little booklet an admirable article, which 
fills , even the oldest inhabitants with a 
new sense of respect for their ancient 
abode. 

From 6 :80 in the morning tiU noon 
the event of the year keeps everybody 
flying. Scarcely a villager who has had 
no share in the preparation or contribu- 
tion of viands, and the first Installment 
of hungry banqueters Is apt to be a flock 
of the farmers' children, eager to spend 
with rejoicing the pennies hoarded for 
weeks for the occasion, and invariably 
ordering, as the preliminary article on a 
lengtihy menu, ice cream ! Mrs. Roby 



130 



PLEASANT PLACES IN ERODE ISLAND. 




ON THE MOSHAKTIODT. . 
Wilbur, the founder and cMef executor of the hungry multitude 
the original repast, was a renowned con- 
cocter of the May day biscuit, and those 
of her coadjutors who still live and assist 
yet at the banquet, aflirni that one May 
day she exluiusted a. barrel and 
a bag of flour in their preparation fori 



The day Is the 
gi-eat reunion for kinsfolk and acquaint- 
ance, however" widely scattered. AH 
other vocations are for the day sus- 
pended, and Oak Lawn keeps open house 
to all returning children. 

Until a year ago the breakfast wa^ 



IN AND ABOUT PROVIDENCE. 



131 



held in tiie somewhat cramped quarters 
of the original Quaker meetlag house, but 
a recent addition gives double room. The 
old people recall the days when team after 
team came over the quiet roads on Sun- 
day mornings, bearing Friends to services 
in the old house now disused and set back 
of the new and neat little Baptist Church. 
The date of the old meeting house's found- 
ing was 1729 ; there are but three older 
in the country. The old-fashioned and 
lovable faith of the Friends had formerly 
many adherents here, but they have re- 
moved, died, or adopted new religions and 
the Earles are now the only famUy In the 
neighborhood. The old Quaker burying 
ground shows its mossy slabs close by the 
gray church. 

Beside the old meeting house, Oak Lawn 
has many reJics ol former days and uses ; 
there is the famous old Ore Bed, oppo- 
site the Oonley farm, its shaft now aban- 
doned and closed, but early in the 1700's 
a flourishing place, and furnishing metal 
for one of the cannon that helped to make 
Perry a victor on Lake Erie. There is 
the ruin, not far distant, of the queer 
little house that old Chloe Cesar, a soli- 
tary negro herb woman, erected with her 
own hands, and fought successfully against 
Its downfall, decrepit old woman as she 
then was, in the great 1815 gale. There 
is the Potter estate, with the many stories 
of the three eccentric old maid sisters, by 
whose abode the timorous children fleetly 
sped, and whose horror of mankind was 
so extreme that one of them dragged her- 
self home with a broken hip rather than 
accept masculine succor, and refused all 
subsequent surgical aid. There is the 
Grorton Arnold estate, on the road to 
Natick, Imown far and wide in former 
days as a hostelry, and destroyed by fire 
but a few years ago. There are the old 
homes of Olney Arnold, Dr. Hudson, Lodo- 
wick and Samuel Brayton, and other well- 
known men yet resident. Between this 
station and Knights^^ll6 Is the pleasant 
home of John M. Dean, on whose estate 
a chimney stands solitary on the eastern 
rise, a landmark from carriage or car win- 
dow. It belonged to an old, old house, 
once honored, it is said, by the brief 
presence of the father of his country. 



Later, old residents recall Its occupancy 
by the eccentric female members of an 
Enghsh family— the traditional " poor and 
proud." This praiseworthy household. It 
is said, used to draw their curtains and 
lie abed all day, rather than reveal the 
poverty of their wardrobe, or the slender- 
ness of their household furnishings. They 
would not dig; to beg they were ashamed, 
and one by one they wisely departed this 
Ufe. 

There is the picturesque Furnace Brook, 
the best known of Oak Lawn's pleasant 
nooks to Pro^'idence artists and fishermen, 
•with Its leaping cascade and the crumb- 
ling walls of the old Furnace rising high 
and gray beside it. Another and prettier 
fall lies up the stream, with more ruins, 
and two little gems of ponds hidden among 
wooded hills. The lower mUl and Fur- 
nace, beside thp road, have had a varied 
career, and served in almost every ca- 
pacity which a mUl stream could further, 
but they are good for nothing any more, 
but to look picturesque and figure In 
photographs ; and the loitering pedestrian 
Is warned to "stand from under" in a 
high wind, for the gray and haltered walls 
are leaning toward the road. Frederic 
Fuller and Stephen Olney were the earli- 
est proprietors of the veteran building, 
figuring first of all as a braid mill. 

Hospitable old homes of the resident 
farmers dot all the roadways, and the 
drive by the Rivulet farm is a pleasant 
one, along the base of the Congdon MU. 
The village proper is small, but a scant 
three dozen houses, occupied almost whol- 
ly, strangely enough now, by dwellers of 
.)ld Nev\- England descent, The occupa- 
tions of most are In the city, and night 
and morning they take the trip In and 
out. There is no local Industry, and the 
loyal citizens hope there never will be, 
with its attendant ills. They have a store, 
a post oflice, a church and a school house 
and cater thus to all the real necessities 
of man's phjsical, mental and spiritual 
nature. Social restrictions are few, and 
the ladies wear sun-bonnets if tliey like, 
in morning calls. \Yha,t would one more? 
A scant half mllo up the wooded road 
to the eastward from the little station 
stands the Oak Lawn School for Girls, si- 



13-2 



PLEASANT PLACES IN EHODE ISLAND. 



lent In (lio j^iv-on woods, appr.acliod from 
Iho road by « winding avenue, through 
■whose oak and chestnut borders the sun 
glints down on mjTiad ranks of spnvidlng 
ferns whoso Ciu-|n t runs through all the 
grovf. In a little tlenring behind the 
house Is the adjoining garden, and on the 
lawn before it Is the tennis court ; other- 
wise the scene Is strictly rural. 

It is ten years that the school has oc- 
cupied its present site, Ifcs Inmates In- 
creasing sensibly in number since its re- 
moval from tlie old Tockwotton House 
and its co-existence with the boys' school. 
This is not probably because bad girls are 
more numerous, but by reason of the 
better care that can be given the girls In 
their new quarters, making it plainly the 
best home for a wayward girl. The same 
matron, Mrs R. S. Butter worth, has ruled 
here since the change, with thr( e undi r 
teachers. The order of the week day is 
unvarying. 6 o'clock Is the rising hour, 
7 the breakfast, and the forenoon is flUed 
with the home work, performed wholly by 
the girls and their supervisors, and di- 
vided into the kitchen, hall, laundry and 
sewing work. Every few months the work 
is dllferently divided, until the girls get a 
pretty thorough knowledge of all domes- 
tic labor, fitting them for the capable 
housemaids many of them in after years 
become. A tour through the sweet-smell- 
ing, tidy and absolutely spotless domains 
shows that heaven's first law of order at 
least is rigidly insisted upon. As If await- 
ing its christening, each room, pantry, 
store room, laundry and kitchen, shines 
tti immaenlato splendor, pitchers, pots and 
pans in tlisteuing rank and file, and the 
dining rnon), in its cool gray and white 
with Its half dozen tables, is decked out 
with truly military precision, the neat 
little handmaid(>n whose special charge and 
pride this room Is, having ranged knife, 
fork and napkin l>cside each plate with 
severest rigor, and constructed a silver 
tulip of .spoons in each holder. In the 
pantry, a baking of bread for a day alone 
runs the whole length of the ample shelf. 

But quite the prettiest room in tlie 
whole house Is the great sewing room. 
This is everj'body's favorite nook, as 
sewing Is the favorite employment, and 



it is the rendezvous for the festive seti- 
son of the year, the Christmas hoUdays, 
when it Is a huge bower of green, and 
amid songs and delight the Ohrlstmaa 
tree is despoiled of the pathetic little 
gifts tlie children have wrought with much 
mystery for their teachers and friends. 
No cardboard and worsted will these ad- 
vanced young misses brook, but request 
crochet patterns, outline and crazy worli 
and an abundance of material Is furntshfl 
by the matron. After tea is the time 
leisui-e for the chUdien, for with the 
of the morning's duties comes dlnnerj 
then the prepai-ing for school, the afte 
noon session lasting until 5 :30, and tfl 
soon after. The trustworthy girls, 
the care of a monitor, are allowed 
range of the berry fields now and then 
morning hours, and retui-n with pi-ai 
worthy promptness within reasonal 
bounds. There are between 30 and 
girls in. the school at present, 44 havl 
been the highest number, while in 
old school the limit was 20. Of cor 
the proportion of girls to boys is \&^ 
small, '200 or so occupying the Sockane 
set boys' school. 

Though a girl is discharged from thd 
school whene%'er it is thought expedleni 
by the matron and Board, yet, as thg 
State claims them as its property unt 
21, they arc rarely retiu-ned to the 
parents, who are almost without exce 
tion wholly unfit for their charge ; in- 
stead, they are placed in families where 
they often remain until they make in 
many cases respectable and happy mar- 
riages. Of course, there are now and 
then girls of whom all instructors despair, 
and whom no good Influence seems 1' 
touch ; but it is a pleasant thing i 
see the magic often wrought on thes. 
wild or Ignorant natures by rafined sur- 
roundings and sympathetic interest. 

Proper behavior insures land treatment, 
and though firm hands are necessarily at 
the reins, escapades are few, though op- 
portunity is frequent. At 8 years girls 
are received into the school, and may re- 
main untU 21, though very rarely. How 
much the fact of a Reform School minori- 
ty may alTect their future is smmething 
that cannot well be judged ; to narrow- 



IN AND ABOUT PBOVIBENCE. 



133 



minded and uncliarltalile natures the mere 
fact would doubtless serve as a brand to 
preclude a girl from their service, but 
the true woman who looks straight into 
the heart of life and puts forth a hand 
only to help will feel her sympathies 
eyen more warmly enlisted toward these 
homeless waifs of girlhood whom cii'cum- 
stances, rather than evil natures, have 
made what they are. 

Step into the school room of an after- 
noon. The girls are only too glad to sing 
for a chance visitor. These girls have 
been well trained ; their enunciation is 
singularly good in recitation as well, and 
they sing rounds capitally and with spirit. 
" Kittle," says the teacher, presently, " can 
you remember your last song?" And Kit- 
tle rises tn her place, and with hands 
clasped before her lifts her pure girlish 
voice in tones whose sweetness brings 
tears to more than one pair of eyes. There 
is a pathos in it outside the song ; in the 
singer herself, and the deep hush of her 
listeners, for Kittle is a prime favorite 
and has aspirations. She once con- 
fldied to ttie writer, in a berryfleM chat, 
her intention of some day writing a 
Book. 



The girls have little intercourse with 
outsiders, this being a necessary precau- 
tion; home visitors they are allowed to 
see only in the presence of a teacher, 
and, of course, never visit home. There 
is an excellent library adjoining the 
school room, its list of authors of juvenile 
books being among the very best. This 
is Imieed well, for tlielr silent iniluenoe> is 
often the strongest. 

An especially gratifying feature of the 
building is the score of tiny little dainty 
single rooms, with the narrow oak bed, 
spotless white frilled sham, and toilet 
ta.ble and glass. The matron would pre- 
fer the system of open dormitories wholly 
done away with, as has been the odious 
uniform system since her advent. The 
girls dress simply, but neatly, in print 
and gingham gowns through the summer, 
in whose maldng they have largely had 
a hand, and there is nothing bizarre or 
with a stamp of an Institution on either 
these or their woolen winter raiment. 
This fashion has much to do with pre- 
serving the self-respect of these young 
girls, who will need all the Idndness an 
over-cold world has to show when they 
again go forth mto its temptations. 



WEST GREENWICH, COVENTRY, EXETER AND 

BEACH POND. 



[To Beach Pond from Providence, Hartford Railroad to Greene, or Stonington Railroad to Hope 
Valley. Thence by carriage to pond.] 



EVEN the brief railroad trip of an 
liour from ProA^clence to Greene 
station, our nearest approacli to 
Beach Pond, showed us Adolent contrasts 
between the crowding villages of the 
Pawtuxet Valley, where the huge mills of 
Natick, Pontiac, River Point and all the 
rest seem to make a soflid rampart along 
the line — and the lessening civilizalion 
as we sped on into Coventry and pa.usert 
at Washington, Coventi-y Centre and 
finally Greene, with its scant two dozen 
houses, and the ;green wilderness n|ll 
about, and blue, low hills hemming in 
the township. To the southeast lie 
Week's Hill, Big* Grass and Little Grass 
Pond, that are acres of flourishing cran- 
berry bogs; to the north is Bowen's IIUI. 
In which region was once won, in the ad- 
ministration of Jefferson, a medal awarded 
to one Madison, a native there, for the 
best cheese made in the United States ; a 
distinction of which the Coventry folk 
are to this day justly proud. A mile or 
two to the northwest of the little farm- 
tag -village rises Carbuncle Hill, with the 
famous pond of similar name nestling at 
Its foot. Carbuncle Pond has a remark- 
able history, whose truth It would not 
do to question in the presence of certain 
old folk of the region who are nearer its 
orl^n than the giddy skeptics of the ris- 
ing generation. It lias a fer\-ld, tropicaj 
flavor quite foreign to Khode Island, and 
•was heard with interest. Before ever 
the invading white man coveted Coventry 
and introduced wliiskcy and oi^^lization, 
the tribe of Indians whose wigwams 
graced the green .sides of Carbuncle Hill, 
and whose canoes glided along the gi'een 



banks of Carbunejle Pond— then named In 
a forgotten Indian tongue— the tribal 
treasure was a huge and glistening gem, 
which had been found set neatly In the 
head of an enormous serpent, slain after 
a long and exciting battle by Coventry's 
most valiant warriors. No electric light 
system was coveted at Carbuncle HUl, 
for the radiance of the gem was such 
that it lit up the greater part of the 
township, and local pride burned high in 
the bosoms of the duslcy possessors. All 
was peace tUJ the invading white men 
entered the land and heard of the won- 
drous carbuncle. All negotiations for its 
purchase were fruitless, for aside from its 
remarkable beauty and lustre it had a 
most obliging disposition, and was In the 
habit of informing the tribe by chameleon 
changes of color, wl\en war or danger 
menaced. The white men resorted to 
force and arms ; but, in the midst of th.3 
melee, when defeat for the red men was 
imminent. Sachem Strong Arm Si3ized the 
radiant carbuncle and Hung it far from 
him into the middle depths of Carbuncle 
Pond, and there it lies to this very hour, 
^\"lth its glory faintly shining up through 
the waves from its hidden resting place. 
We questioned concerning this phenom- 
enon of Greene's one litterateur, who Is 
a bit of scientist as wejl, and he said 
that it was undoubtedly a fact that in 
the centre of Carbuncle Pond was an un- 
usual radiance and clearness of the 
water, making even the smallest pebbles 
down below clearly visible ; but as the 
same appearance ,was to be found In less 
degree in one or two spots nearer shore, 
he was inclined to think It rose from the 



I 



WEST GBEEJSf fVICH, COVENTBY AND EXETEB. 



135 



head springs that fed the lake, and its 
outlet to the Moosup. But this the an- 
cient believers laugh to scorn. Away- 
south of the track the distant blue rise 
over the West Greenwich line indicates 
Nooseneck HUl, a desolate and abandoned 
farm region, given over to solitude and 
the preying tooth ol time. 

Eice City lies beside Carbuncle HUl, 
and it is a fact not generally kno%vn that 
it is the oldest city in Hhode Island, for 
It had its estabjlished name and Post 
Office ninety years ago, though its char- 
ter seems to have been unluckily mis- 
laid. The little Moosup that wanders 
through the section is thought to have 
taken its ndme from a veritable moose 



years ago. For many years he tilled 
with success the not over fruitful acres 
of West Coventry, and there established 
the weU-known old country tavern at the 
foot of Carbuncle Hill, on the old Hart- 
ford turnpike, a veritable "hall way 
house," between Norwich and Providence. 
Countless are the stages and country 
wagons that have halted iu their day be- 
fore the old roomy, big-chimneyed house 
of entertainment, with hoary lilacs nest- 
ling thickly at its either end. The Col. 
John, Jr., who succeeded to the name of 
the old Revolutionary patriot (who com- 
manded a Plainfleld company at Bunker 
HUl, Flat Bush, and the guard over Maj. 
Andre,) was major ol the 9th Regiment 




NOOSEJNECK HTT.Ti. 



valley, for by tradition and scant relics 
the Coventry naturalists think there is 
no question but in ancient days the 
moose fed here. A pretty bit of the 
Moosup river is just here at Avhat is 
known as Spencer's Rocks ; a high, foamy 
fall drops down ton an abrupt descent of 
some fifteen feet to a huge flat rock nearly 
100 feet long, and on its banks, now re- 
moved from the wear of water, is the 
famous Indian kettle, a round hollowed 
stone, scooped deeply out with perfect 
symmetry, and said to be the work of 
the ancient tribes ; but some believe it to 
be the work of the falling water which 
in former days dropped directly upon it. 
The fa.mUy of Mr. McGregor are among 
the local celebrities here, the grandfather 
of the only siirvivor, John McGregor, hav- 
ing settled here from Scotland some 130 



in the war of 1812, and held many im- 
portant town offices. In the peaceful 
old country tavern he passed the few 
last idle years of his long and useful life, 
dying at the age of ninety-six. His two 
sons were, John and Jeremiah, and Dr. 
John McGregor wUl be easUy recalled of 
Providence people, entering early on a 
career in which he excelled, and being 
called from place to place as his reputa- 
tion grew, and leaving an extensive prac- 
tice in Thompson, Conn., to follow in 
the steps of his ancestors and depai't 
again to war in the RebeUion. His for- 
tunes here were peculiarly exciting, and 
he, had the opportunity of comparing pris- 
on life in Libby, Charleston, Columbus, 
Libby again, and Salisbury. Ho was at 
length left ill .ind destdtute by his cap- 
tors in the wUdernesses of the James 



136 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



river, but survived and eventually reached 
home. It was soon after this that he 
settled. In Providence as a practitioner, 
and two years later he met his death by 
the, pecnllar accident that those familiar 
with his name will recall. On Jus way 
to visit a patient, his horse took fright, 
bacldng between a dummy engine and 
the street cars, the doctor was thrown 
out and Ms arm feArfully crushed, aTid 
the loss of blood attending its amputa- 
tion at the hospital, caused his de;ilh. 
The surviving brother, Jeremiah, still re- 
mained at the old tavern home,stead, 
farming in a small way, and contribTit- 
ing local history to several papers. He 
is vastly loyal to his native county and 
told us much of interest as we lingered 
at Greene, in the roaa'lde cottage that he 
occiapies, for the old tavern, alas ! with 
its hundred interesting relics, is no more. 
Only last November, on an unluckj- day, 
when all the able-bodied men of the 
neighborhood were attending a distant 
auction, a wandering spark fell on the 
high roof, between the, two big chimneys, 
and in two hours nothing was left of the 
quaint old place but a smouldering heap 
Of ruins. Tlie lofty upper hall of the tav- 
ern had \been fuU of interesting relics, 
the collection begun in the days of the 
eldest John. The very wall was papered 
with ancient documents and A'ahuibh' 
autograph letters, Washington's, General 
Putnam's, Major Andre's, and. others. 
Ancient crockery, silver, and the old 
style mahogany furniture, that were, heir- 
looms of both Mr. and Mrs. McGregor, 
went up in smoke, and files of many old 
newspapers, from their first number, the 
Journal included. A large collection of 
minerals, too, was among the lost ; few 
articles were rescued, but among them 
was the old Revolutionary sword that had 
passed unscathed, through its third bap- 
tism of fire and smoke, and we fingered 
it reverentially. It was a hard thing, la- 
deed, to begin life anew from this devas- 
tation; we listened sympathetically whUe 
sweet-faced Mrs. McGregor told us bow, in 
her excitement, she bore out from the 
ruins her heavy old sewing, machine, al- 
most wortMess, and left valuable papers 
and silver to perish. Queer things seejn 



to happen in this neighborhood ; It 
from this very house, that not long a{ 
on an extremely dark night, two coupM 
drove, hurriedly away, hoping to reacS" 
home before rain fell. The first partj% 
having started much the earlier, forgot 
some article, and returning for it, en- 
countered the second vehicle driving 
swiftly in the opposite direction ; the two 
horses, neither seeing nor hearing, struck 
their lieads squarely together with t<ii"iitic 
violence and dropped dead in their tracks. 
This woiUd seem an almost incredible oc- 
currence, if trutliful Coventry were not 
prepared to vouch for it. 

All this and more we heard as we Avan- 
dered about Greene, feeling, in this strange 
country, a liundred miles away from 
home ; but Beach Pond was our goal, and 
we sought and found a charioteer. Daniel 
TUlinghast, a native and palriarcli of Cov- 
entry, the father of Lloyd and Mason 
Tillinghast, and the other Providence 
brothers, now that ye.ars have unfitted 
him for the active, duties of farming, lin- 
gers at Greene's Station and conducts ar- 
riving strangers to the bourne where they 
woitld be. Our request for Beacli Pond 
even, which was to involve 25 miles of 
driving, over aU manner of roads, did not 
stagger this worthy old gentleman, and in 
fiiteen minutes our prancing steed was 
before, the door. 

Leading southwest, our road laj^ be- 
tween stony pastures and wood-bound 
valleys, toward and through Hopklns'3 
Hollow, and firet we passed a jewel of a 
pond, ruffled by the, stiff breeze, and pop- 
ulated by one bit of a shanty close to its 
shore, like a miniature wigwam of Noko- 
mis by the shores of Gitchee Gumee. It 
is the, trout pond of the younger Tilltng- 
hasts, and the little shanty is their some- 
times summer camp, and we thought It 
must be great fun. Hopldns's HoUow Is 
situated, as its name woiUd indicate, in a 
sheltered vale, between the low ranges 
of wooded hills. It Is a scattered lot of 
little black houses, a store, a blacksmith's 
shop, and a grist mUl by the small sti'eam 
tluit meanders along like a child sent on 
an errand it is In no haste to fulfill. Just 
beyond it on a cross road are the old 
school house and the little graveyard. 



WEST GREENWICH, COVENTRY ANB EXETER. 



137 



nore populous than the settlement, for 
he palmy days of Hopkins's Hollow se.em 
>ver, like those of the whole desolate re- 
gion through which we were to pass. 

Many werei the little family burying 
jrounds we saw in lonely fields, or even 
^own roundabout to woods, where even 
I vestige of what was once the old home- 
stead was lacMng. The way grew lone- 
lef, the roads bumpier, as we journeyed, 
md ever and anon our charioteer cheer- 
hilly assured us it was nothing to what 
we would come, to presently. 



our own surprised little mare, Dolly. Our 
guide alighted, and in a tangle of whip 
lash and flying heels this fiend of a 
horse at length galloped away, and ca- 
vorted up a green lane that led before 
us to a tumble-down cottage among 
hoary apple trees. Here, too, we passed 
a family of the tiniest, pinkest little pig- 
lets, in a wayside pen, we have ever 
beheld. They were far from "haunts of 
meTi, and only a question as to whether 
we could keep them contentedly seated 
in our laps during ail all day's drive de- 




A WEST GREENWICH ROAD. 



No travellers met us in these grassy 
and pine-perfumed ways, nor, what was 
mare lucky, in the occasional cross cuts 
our guide made through ne.wly hewn 
woods, where there was no possible pass- 
ing, as the hills grew higher and the hol- 
lows hollower. Only once was our way 
contended, by an astonished horse, who 
was doubtless accustomed to feel himself 
monarch of all he surveyed, as he browsed 
ilong the highway. Squarely in the road- 
way he, planted himself before us and re- 
fused to budge ; a menace of the whip set 
his ears lying flat and his eyes showing 
white, and he flourished his heels uncom- 
fortably near the gentle brown eyes of 



terred us from bearing one each away 
then and there. Dahlias bloomed every- 
where, in every dooryard ; they were re- 
deeming bits of splendor in a forsaken 
land. 

We passed " Old Warwick Corner," a 
spot bounded by the four townships of 
Sterling, Coventry, West Greenwich and 
Volimtown, and, passing a stone post 
with an R on one side and a C on the 
other, found ourselves over the border and 
in Connecticut, hard by Bailey pond, 
which, like Beach, is a boundary lake. It 
lay far down below at our right, winding 
about the low hUls, so that we saw and 
lost it again, and the slender maples that 



138 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



leaned over to Its mirroring -waters, were 
flaming -wltli red and gold, against the 
sombre green behind It. The nearer 
■waters bristled with the harsh reeds of 
the water grass. Opposite lay a long, 
rich griH-n meadow, ii sight to legist one's 
eyes after the acres of sterile, roclty soil ; 
It Is known as BaUey's flats, and was 
pointed out to us with much approval. 

Presently we entered the " Bltgood 
neighborhood," erroneously suggestive of 
civilization, albeit scant : but the neighbor- 
hood was as destitute of dwellings as the 
outer wilds. But one farmhouse on an 
eminence came to \'lew. with a cider press 
In full blast, whereat we paused and drank 
our fill, while the one surslving Bltgood 
exchanged the neighborhood courtesies 
with Mr. Tilllnghast, and lamented, as a 
hard way to get a living, Ms necessity 
for cutting and carting a load of wood for 
the small sum of ^'2 7.5 to Voluntown, 
three miles dislant. Oneco, on the mil- 
road, would pay more, but Oneco was eight 
miles away. Meanwhile the mistress of 
the Bltgood homestead at the open door 
etood smUing hospitably, enjoying a rare 
glimpse of passing sisterhood. This was 
the only Bltgood family that comprised the 
neighborhood, though in their father's day 
there were four or five, now dead and 
gone. 

Six mDes of Connecticut we traversed 
before we came to the long, steep hill road 
which any mountain might have owned 
with pride, leading down to the valley 
where Aviid Hoacli Pond lies slumbering. 
The wide east end of the pond Is in Rhode 
Island and the long narrowing tall of its 
two-mile length is in Connecticut, Avhere 
Its waters pour out and form the Pachaug 
river— a name that a frog must have onarin- 
ated In some frenzied leap. At the foot 
of the lake where the slender stream 
goes, riLShing out between its stony bor- 
ders, stands a little cottage, where tables 
were spread in profusion under a canopy 
of dry oak boughs. Here two gentlemen 
leisurely reclined and ate apples as we 
halted at what we learned was Avery 
Stanton's place. The tables had had their 
day two weeks before at a grange picnic 
of 300 from Hope Valley, our two Inform- 
ants said. Our gidde knew them, hailed 



them famlUarly, and introduced them In 
the Coventry vernacular as John Tahnner 
and Jolin Stahnton, and the former owned 
a peripatetic steam saw mill, at present 
located on Beach Pond shores. Mr. Til- 
llnghast had known these two possessors . 
of the land ever since they were bom, he 
declared, and was proceeding to favor us 
with a lengthy biography of each— the two 
meanwhile continuing to pare apples with 
tinabaslied serenity— wlien we reminded hlna i 
that time was Hying, and we joumejel 
on. At the very tail of the pond is a saw 
mill, and opposite are two or three little 
old houses together, a crowded " neighbor- 
hood." One is the Douglas place, where 
a iJassett formerly Uved, and here la 
where most of the visiting fisher- 
men hire their boats, as they come 
from far and wide for the bass, 
pickerel and other fish for which Beach 
Pond is famed. A dark-eyed young lad 
with a frank and manly face, who was 
tending the saw mill came and conversed 
with us. Boats were also to be had of 
Lewis & Briggs, he said ; as a rule fisher- 
men stayed only one day. Where did 
they come from ? Oh, everywhere ; Con- 
necticut rather than Rhode Island— Nor- 
wich, Moosup, Voluntown. Now and then 
they came from Pro^^idence— a party of 
campers had been staying up to Phillips. 
Yes, he tliought fishing liad been up to 
the usual mark this year, though the pond 
being low had made a difference. The other 
end of the pond was the place, and our 
road would t;ike us all along the southern 
shore, and with thanks we sped on, noting 
as we passed the remaining cottage a 
sign In Its small window of " Yankey" no- 
tions. For n mile we lost the pond and 
drove through the woods, and we passed 
the houses of the Lewis Bros., where 
wagons are mended and carpets woven, 
and there we spied, high on a rocky pas- 
ture, that slanted to the water, a little 
black, wlndowless, forsaken house, with 
huge stone cliimney. We got out to peep 
in at a probable fire-place, and as we flat- 
tened our faces against one of the remain- 
ing panes, we beheld a bed, a pair of 
shoes and a hat, and beat a horrified re- 
treat, falling over the owner, placidly 
chewing tobacco on the front door steps. 



WEST GBEENWICH, COVEN TBY AND EXETEB. 



139 



s oxen -were staWed In the cellar ; lie 
d another farm hand boarded themselves 
the old house. So he told us with a 
igthened drawl, as he chewed and spat. 
; was the first wholly unheauteous 
uth we had seen in Gonnecticut, we 
ised as we returned to our waiting car- 
tge. By and toy the woods parted, and 
Id Beach Pond in all its placid width 
J before us, rippling now /on Rhode 
and shores. The reason for its name 
IS plain. AJl around its eastern curve, 
tween woods and water, lay a wide 
lite shore of sand, fine and pebbleless, 



certainly, and we had taken It for a slip 
of the pen, but here it was stretching 
across the water to right and left, a made 
road, with a bridge for ebb and flow as 
the pond rose. What a queer ride it was I 
The pond is low, as we had heard, and 
east of the road is a submerged stump 
forest. In its state of drought this sec- 
tion was laid bare, and was like a scene 
of the Dante's Inferno, this weird and 
melancholy multitude of soggy black 
stumps and network of snaky roots, with 
great patches here and there of matted 
watergrass as scant clothing, in faded 










OLD MUXi, 



e water crystal clear, aa we looked 
wn into it. Races used to be ran here 

olden times. South and west the wood- 

. hills rise, east and north the wooded 

vels, and not a habitation is in sight 

one looks south to where a wooded 

lint juts sharply down and terminates 

a great overhanging ledge, under which 
le may almost row his boat. 

And now a puzzling feature of the new 
sological map of the township was made 
ain, the map we had consulted at eA'ery 
jn of the road thus far, and not found 
anting. On the map the road homo lay 
jross the pond. This looked puzzling, 



EKEO^EIR. 

yellows and sunburnt russet. Dark, still 
pools lay here and there close to the 
road, and the lapping waves the othea- side 
of the road leaped and coaxed them out 
in vain. Off to the left was the sunny 
green of the untouched forest, and the 
vivid colors of the frost-smitten maples 
and tender shrubs, reflected 5n a waving 
bond of brightness in the sparkling water. 
It was a most eflective contrast. On 
this water road we encountered our sec- 
ond team ; the first had been a tin ped- 
dler's cart, with the most ebony ' of 
drivers, straying somewhere in the Con- 
necticut wUds ; this was a load of hay. 



140 



PLEASANT PLACES IN ERODE ISLAND. 



"With two pairs of oxen harnessed thereto, 
and all four lying comfortably prostrate 
on the hard highway awaiting the move- 
ments of their driver, standing absorbed 
"witli rod over tlie silent pools, hard at It 
fishing. TJiere he was likely to stand 
till the sun set, as the oxen well knew, 
wisely reclining. No, he hadn't got noth- 
In' to-day, he shouted, though he got a 
pretty ILlcely one ye«terday--flve and a 
hall— and lahst week one 't weighed eight 
afore 'twas dressed. Pond looiced so 
'tw.is fished pretty hard, but he was tryin' 
to git that twenty-five-pounder that got 
aw.iy from Cumraings. And still try- 
ing vainly, we left him. The rough road 
loading east through Exeter up to West 
Greenwich Is known as the "Ten-rod 
road," though ten feet come nearer its 
present clearing. It passes a grove where 
from time immemorial the neigliboring 
populace have been "wont to celebrate 
what is always called the " Last Saturday 
In June," by repairing to the pond, os- 
tensibly for rifle sand, but long years 
agone simply for an annual good time and 
picnic. The custom and the patrons de- 
generated, and it became the yearly ren- 
dezvous for all the roughs roundabout, 
who lay about and drank the livelong day, 
and raced horses for rum. But for two 
or three years back this annual glorifica- 
tion has happily languished, and the 
campers and the fishermen celebrate more 
decorously. 

Further on Is the neat little homestead 
of Barber Wilcox, with a front yard all 
ablaze with the omnipresent dahlias. The 
wife of Barber Wilcox takes summer 
boarders, and we longed to tarry ; it was 
a charming summer home in the wilder- 
ness. We did alight, In fact, wath the 
assurance of a cup of tea, but found no 
one at home but a lame man and a collie 
dog of exuberant spirits. We were hos- 
pitiibly bidden to enter, but declined, and 
as Mr. Tlllinghast regretfully aided us 
agjiin within the carriage he remarked 
that she was a plaguey smart woman- 
wished she'd been there. Unsolaced by 
tear, we journeyed on through Exeter and 
up to West Greenwich, lunching leisurely. 
In Exeter we remember notluhg of note 



but a wide and dreary cranberry bog, in 
its midst an aged man and an aged woman, 
she with a red cloak and a peaked hat, 
witcli-like with her white locks, who 
slolirtlj picked and stared. Presently we 
passed their tumble-down hovel, with the 
ruins of a great outside stone chimney. 

Tlie long routrh h 11 we now climbed in 
West Greenwich was spoken of as " 'E:ist 
Cake," or so It sountled ti) our untut>red' 
ears, but reference to the map s:iowed it 
Escoheag. Up the hill Easkig then, tO' 
speak as do the natives, we climbed and' 
climbed, and olf to the right a distant bluC' 
hill journeyed beside us, across the for- 
ests of the valley. Pine Plains, our 
guide called it, and Kaccoon Hill and 
Bald Hill and Vaughn Hill were all In 
view. Escolieag has a long, long summit. 
On it is the oldest house in the region, 
the John Hazaid house, square and gray 
and huge and forsaken. We passed In at 
its portals, under the falling piazza, and 
roamed about its big ro )ms and climbed 
to its empty garret. Here the wind 
whistled slirill and wild'y, and a new hl'l- 
top came to view, lislng off to the left 
among the unbroken forest. Penny Hill, 
our guide said, when we I'eturned. On 
the hilLside were th^ ruins of what waa 
pronounced the " Abel Rathbone man- 
sion," looking anything but a mansion 
now, in its tumbled black heap. Hazard 
Grove Is a noted spot on Escoh ag's sum- 
mit; a land mark for many, many miles, 
and a magnificent ■gi'ove. E^scoheag's 
Post Office is here, too, and the valley 
dwellers must be anxious for mail who 
woiild climb here after it. As to gi'tting 
clown, we had our choice of gDing by " an 
awful hill, or another one not quite so 
bad." We chose the awful hill, and-^we 
got it; but like all things else, it had an 
end. A grist mill lay in the -soilage, also 
the birthplace of the resolute Beach Pond 
fisherman, and the lawless little Liberty 
lirook we crossed and re rossed. Liberty 
Farm we passed, the thriving home of an 
eccentric man, whose tomb, cheerfully 
paiuti'd red, looms up in a plejisant 
nu adow liard by and c ntalns two neatly 
■niadi' coftius, one for himself, one for his 
wife, but neither as yet occupied. In 
this region, too, lives a man who Lelleves 



WJEST GREENWICH, COVENTRY AND EXETER. 



141 



. "wltclies— perhaps he, too, Ms met the 
d lady of the cranberry hog— and mates 
Hgles la his yard and shoots and hums 
lem, in the pleasing conYictiun that he 
destroying a witch with each. Here, 
►0, lived tlie far famed Elder Slo;um, 
ng since gathered to his fathers, who 
Id a congi-egation of thou-ands assem- 
led to hear his funeral sermon, preached, 
3 is not usually the case, hy the eccen- 
ic elder ■■ himseU, from his housetop, 
1th all the fittlag accompaniments. It 
nas not tall he descended, and. set fire to 
(s haystacks and burnt up most of the 



nouHce that the inmates were now away 
at this place or that, and small wonder. 
Only one who is in love with nature and 
finds liappiness and company in the great 
out-door world of small things could 
have the true home feeling of contentment 
on. these isolated old farms. On this 
wUd West G-reenwich road we saw hut 
one cottage modern and tasteful, a hit 
of a thing, likewise closed and silent— a 
Boston man had huilt it for a summer 
home, hut his wile couldn't endm-e the 
solitude and now he had shut it up and 
gone and could neither sell nor rent it. 




OLD CHUECHYAliD, EiXETEIR. 



arm's outhuildings that he was univer- 
ally pronounced insane. 

Iji this wild and desolate land of hUls 
nd valleys, far from social Interests and 
lany human ties, it is a wonder that the 
ew discontented lingerers are not all in- 
ane. "Dead, and gone" was the melan- 
holy summary of the histories of the 
ounders of aU the abandoned, decaying 
Id homesteads we passed. Often we 
lassed furnished homesteads, hut with 
uitains down and a general look of ab- 
ence, and Mr. Tilllnghast, giving us 
lamcs and brief biographies, would ani- 



Au old-fashioned square school house 
stands on this road ; through the windows 
we saw a dozen or so bobbing heads, and 
there entered at the door, after a franlv 
stare at us, a rusty, shabby elderly man 
'in a long, loose coat, a saw in one hand, 
an axe in the other, whom our guide in- 
dicated :as the schoolmaster. It was 
like an illustration of an old-time story. 

Our way homeward led throiigh the fer- 
tile acres of the old Tilllnghast home- 
stead, with its especially pretty cottages 
and well-kept farm, and brought us at 
length out once more at its confluence at 



142 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



Hopkins's Hollow, and so back to Greene, 
before either night or the threatening 
rain fell, and in an hour we were in 
Pi-(^vjdence. It had been a trip unique 
in our Rhode Island experiences, and its 
most vivid memories are now of hosts of 
glittering dahlias, multitudes of forsaken 
farms, the odor of the "fever wood," or 
spice wood, that filled the forest, and a 
poignant regret that We could have 
brought home with us neither a pine nor 
a pig. 

But Coventry had a hold on our affec- 
tions that would not let go ; when vaca- 
tion time di-ew near it beckoned more 
strongly. Could we not pitch our autumn 
tent there in the wilderness? At the 
thought a brighter idea came to us, and 
we cried in unison, " Let us camp out in 
an abandoned farm house 1" Cheerl'ully, 
then, we undertook the quest, not a diJli- 
cult one, for old farms and new, little 
ones and big, lay up this road and down 
that. But the ideal campground presented 
ItseK presently. 

It lay, approached by a winding cart- 
path through the woods, a scant mile 
from the station— what station it matters 
not. As vague boundary lines, the ghost- 
haunted pine woods lay somewhere to 
the east of us; the wind-swept hills of 




m CEAKBERRY TnVfW. 

Foster, dotted with gray farms and grayer 
and more populous graveyards, somewhere 
to the north ; the rippling and winding 
Buckshom somewhere to the west, and 
the Big Grass and Little Grass Ponds—' 
the quaking cranberry bogs with the hun- 
dreds of white rabbits tenanting their 
laurel jungle— somewhere to the south. 
The house itself— a collection of rambling 
ems and adjuncts to a primitive gambrel 



cottage— rose above its ascending orchardsl 
on a slight eminence, all the rolBngf,!. 
breeze-sweet, wild country before aii4t^< 
below it, and a silent pine grove behind," 
dropping to a moist and echoing glen, 
where a spring, roofed and sheltered,: 
made a haunt for the wild birds and a 
fountain for all the fearless furi-y folk of 
the silent forest. Among the feathery 
young pines and the moss carpet glisten- > 
ing with checkerberries, grew rank and 
tall and rich with fruit, the swamp huckle- 
berry and the purple blue globes of the 
dangleberry, abundant still, though sum- 1 
mer had passed. We entered into our 
brief kingdom by way of a winding cart- 
road through the forest, enthroned on a 
mattress and a couple of trunks, while ■ 
two very small dogs, each tightly holding 
a very large bone presented them by a 
dog lover at the little station, sat beside 
and completed the startling pictui-e that 
drew the good folk of the quiet ^il- 
lage hastily to front windows to see us 
rattle by and disappear in the forest. A 
mUe of delight was our iolttng prog- 
ress between huge balsamic pines :ind 
by brook beds glowing Hke crimson rib- 
bons with clustered ranlvs of the Indian 
cardinal, and out from the woods ovej a 
stony rise the road issued, the big, en-ay 
barnyard gate swung hospitably open, 
and we entered -with all the joy of ex- 
plorers on our wide domains. 

Two attics, two kitchens and two cellars 
this generous house boasted; and in the 
farthest and most remote kitchen lodged 
a wood-chopper for the season ; a quiet 
and inoffensive solitary man, who never 
said that the enjoyment of his pensive 
evening pipe was lessened by sounds of 
hilarity about the hitherto echoing prem- 
ises. Most abandoned farms are deserted 
once for all, with no precaution against 
fire or marauders, but ours had been so 
recently remodelled and renovated, its 
outbuildings were aU so staunch and ser- 
viceable, that its owner had still hope of 
its sale at a good price, and guarded ac- 
cordingly against disaster. A pump stood 
just outside the Wtchen door and an old- 
fashioned well with time-worn sweep lay, 
according to the good old custom, a Sab- 
bath day's journey distant down the slop- 



WEST GREENWICH, COVENTRY AND EXETER. 



143 



ng meadow by the railroad track: for 
lie great farm of three hundred acres had 
(een split hy the single track raSlroad 
;ome forty years belore, and the wealth 
)f the former owner had come through 
his means. So uiofFenslve and infrequent 
(vere the modest traias that sped througli 
»ur farm that we bore no grudge against 
iieir transit, but ihalled their passing as 
;he only exciting episodes of the day, 
LS they sped by below us along the brook 
iats, and disappeared in the forest. 

It was not long before our landlord, 
garrulous, hospitable and Jovial, visited 
us and proceeded to seek out any hidden 
wants or discomforts, after the kindly 
fashion of the dwellers in that land, 
whose like we have never seen paralleled. 
He believed there was an air-tight up 
in the attic— he would get it down and 
bring some pipe from home next time 



with shining eyes the size of base balls, 
the legend of the Buckshorn, the snake's 
head jewel in Carbuncle pond, the rabbit 
hunttug in the brown November days, 
and the marvellous sums made in pursuit 
of the coy partridge. We heard about 
startling events that had taken place 
" up t' the Greene" and " daown t' the 
Anthony," and were invited to rise at 4 
o'clock and ride 20 miles to the shore 
with our joyfully expectant next-door 
neighbors— accessible by a narrow and fra- 
grant footpath through the forest. Here 
we went with ever new pleasure at milk- 
ing time for our daily supply. It was 
an old, old house, of uniform gray ttat, 
huge square chimney, and dying orchards 
all about it. Everything spoke of de- 
cay, desolation and ruin, but its inhabi- 
tants. They were lively to the last de- 
gree and cheerful with the cheer that 




ABANDONED HOMmSTBAD ON NOOSENECSK HUD. 



he came; we might find it handy if the 
evenings came chill. A broom, too— 
we couldn't sweep with that old stub ; 
he would and did bring a broom. Men 
were digging potatoes in the sloping 
field under the apple trees down across 
the track; we were to go down there 
and help ourselves. He would fix up 
the door knobs and send a man to mow 
the grass— the weeds were hard to get 
around tn. All these improvements were 
promptly and cherfully made ; then, be- 
fore nightfall even, began visits from 
unknown " friends in the woods." 

They came with offering of fruit and 
vegetables, of pies and puddings even. 
They greeted us like long-lost brethren. 
On Sunday we entertained largely and 
the old place grew festive while we 
listened to old-time tales from our pleased 
and smUing neighbors— 'about the ghost 



only an unaspiring life can bestow ainid 
such solitude. 

Our landlord had expressed his belief 
that we could have our milk brought 
daily to our door if we wished, by the 
hands of a " little devU that shot his 
grandmother. " Naturally distrusting 
this Satanic medium, we elected to be 
our own bearers, and found the resident 
imp possessed of many redeeming quali- 
ties, the shooting to have been purely 
accidental, and the depraved scion to 
have numbered at that time only five 
summers. A rather lovable little Imp 
we found him, hovering pei-petually about 
us in our wanderings about their old, 
old house, with unremitting offerings of 
strawberry tomatoes. Seldom did the miUc 
return home. Beans, tomatoes and hot 
biscuit often accompanied, and our camp- 
ing out was unprecedentedly luxurious. 



144 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



Our woodcboppor, -who was a French 
Caiiailiau, and wlio had travelled much 
throughout tlie State, told us that he had 
never, anywhere, seen anything approach- 
ing the good will fUnd fi-iendliness that 
was the ruling spirit ol' the township. 
If a man was sick, the neighbors all 
flocked in and did his han^estlng for 
him, and the women flocked in with 
medicine and savoi-y dishes. 

A prettier testimony came to our ears 
as we made a neighborhood call on an 
old lady witli whom one of our party had 
a slight previous actiuaintance. AJl by 
hei-self in a tiny white cottage, pine- 
sheltered and with a garden radiant 
with flowers, she lived, and we had not 
been seated many miuutes when she 
brought proudly in from the "best room" 
a piece of her handiwork, covering years 
In its execution. It was an ottoman, 
covered in cloth, its sides gay with 
clustered flowers appliqued neatly on. 
The chef-d'oeuvre was its top, a land- 
scape scene, and one could recognize with- 
out much ditliculty that its model was 
the little white cottage itself, with the 
two pines and as much of the detail as 
Avas possible. As additional ornament, 
a huge cornucoijia, lavish of contents, 
was laid neatly on the sky above. We 
praised and admired the neatness and 
painstaking character of the work, to 
the maker's manifest gratitication. 

Presently she went on to tell us more 
of her past life and history. For eight 
years before her husband's death he had 
been unable to work, and they had been 
very reduced in means. With an invalid's 
despondency, tlie husband had doubt«l 
and di-eaded from day to day, for there 
was no food, no fuel, and the winters 
were long and cold. But the neighbors 
had come in fyom rigtit and left; they had 
drawn wood, sawed and split it, and fur- 
nished supiilies, all with the cheerful de- 
light in giving that marks this Arcadian 
coi-ner. The lonely old people had never 
been suffered to go to their rest cold or 
hungry. "And so I told my husband," 
concluded our old lady, "for I finished the 
top Ijefore he died. 'I'm going to put this 
horn 0' plenty right on top,' says I, 'to 



remind me how there's always one seemed I 

lu hang right over this little cottage.' " 

Could there be a more pathetic tribal i; 
to the neighborhood spu-it of good will ; 
We said our good-bys and looked our la^L 
on the little ottoman with a far less criii- 
cal eye, for sentiment filled, all the space 
that art left vacant. 

There was the G-reene campmeeting, too, 
now in progress two mUes away, to at- 
tend, and the great '• Line Picnic" up in 
Foster, whither most ol Coventry's inhabi- 
tants, in jovial wagon loads, drove at an 
early hour, to dissipate mildly and meet 
all theii- kinsfolk and acgualutance ; and 
there was the daUy excitement of going 
down the track to the post office and get- 
ting mail. 

But, though diversion offered on eA'ery 
hand, and friends dropped in from home, 
we agreed that just the guartet of us aloue 
in this almost primeval solitude, was best 
of all. How many pictures stUl flit be- 
fore our eyes as pleasant memories ! The 
cool and silent sunrisings, tlie air just 
tinged with tlie flrsd frostluc^s ; tlie camp 
fire out imder the apple trees, with the 
sizzling salt pork and the aroma of coffee; 
the crack of the gun in a cedar swamp, 
and the morsel of a yellow and white 
spaniel trotting delightedly to its master, 
with tail one twinlding fan of joy o\er 
the plump partridge in its cai-eful little 
mouth ; the rising of the round silver moon 
over the eastern pine forests, Avith the 
whispei's always in their branches, wiille 
the yellow gloAV paled in the west, and 
the katydids called on every side as Ave 
sat around the flickering camp fire ; the 
SAveet hay couches, A\ith bright moonliglit 
maldng tAvinl<ling bands of glory throu.irli 
the old barn's crevices, the infinitesini:il 
crackling and i-ustling eA'ei-ywhore arouml, 
and the measured piping chorus of crickets, 
l)roken by the tremolo (luivering ciy of a 
plump little owl flitting outside. 

Sound slumbers came to us from thi- 
balsam-laden air, on our pillows stulfed 
Avlth hay, hops and june needles, and it 
seemed a strange and sad thing when we 
at last returned to ciAilized ways, to b • 
obliged to dress after we had risen, or to 
feel constrained to quaff our morning cups 



WEST GBEENWICR, COVENTRY AND EXETER. 



145 



if coffee elsewhere than on the Idtchen 
loor. Sadly we bade good-by to all the 
indly country folk, even the small imp 
vith his queer trick oj crying " Yonder !" 
o direct one's attention, leaving him 
apturous with a gift of hooks and lines 
o supplant his pins and strings when 
lext he captured " mommy chaubs" at the 
Istant shore. More sadly still we looked 
lur last on the trim little deserted farm 
lOuse as oiir train sped by, receiving only 
emporary diversion from the sight of our 
next-door neighbor" as the train made 
10 



short work of the distance between the 
dwellings, standing amid the sun-drying 
heaps of nether garments and old shoes, 
that betokened their recent sportdngs with 
old ocean, and brandishing with both 
arms, with aU the energy of her energetic 
nature, a towel in a last farewell. 

Golden days of cloudless weather are 
they that we look back on, in no wise be- 
lying the sunny prophecy of the four- 
leaved clover that peeped up at us at the 
very threshold of our September home 
when first we crosse.d it. 



THE PAWTUXET RIVER. 



[Electric cars to Pawtuxet, 5 ceuts.] 



PROVXDENOE citizens are gro-wing 
more and more appreciative of the 
attractions of an afternoon row on 
the Pawtuxet— a river easy of access, and 
of manifold charms. 

The coy little stream flowing wlndingly 
across the State Ls as changoahle in its 
varying moods and phases as the tiny 
maidchild, gromng up through the an- 
gular, "awkward age" to Wtirthlng, con- 
sciotis maidenhood and maturity. A 
dainty nurslmg in its infancy among the 
green hills of Scituate, It runs south- 
eastward by the thickly-clustered facto- 
ries of Hope and Harris and Phenix and 
the other mlle-apart places with a per- 
turbed and languid flow qxiite at variance 
with its sparkling iiilantUe pmity, fed 
by a dozen hUl-born brooks. It is an- 
gular and sullen and unpicturesaue. Its 
own mother would not know it. But 
taking heart again as it leaves the clus- 
tering viUages behmd, it turns boldly 
up to the, northeast and hastens with 
joyous laughter to the green woods that 
beckon a lo%'lng welcome. BmUing and 
dimpling and growing ever more beau- 
tiful, with gay adorning of flowers and 
wreathing "\lnes, it moves on— coy^ly and 
waywardly Indeed, but still shyly ad- 
vancing—to fling itself at last into tlie 
arms of the salt se^,, stretched loA-lnglj' 
up to meet and embrace It. 

It is along these last three or four 
miles that pleasure-seekers most do con- 
gregate, taking boat from Rhodes's or 
Gardiner's, near the car route. Each 
turn of the, river reveals fresh surprises, 
and seems to frame a fairer picture than 
the last. Rowboats abound until the first 
and second rapids are passed— If one has 
the good fortune to pass them ; but above 



them tills river-way seems a primeval 
wilderness. Delicate birches make slen- 
der leaning pillars against the darker 
green, and the placid water by the shore 
mirrors the brown banks and bending 
ferns above, till one can hardly trace 
the, faint water-line. Now level meadows 
stretch along the banks, and now one 
looks up, up through the green tangle of 
a wooded liUl-side, till the eye meets only 
the blending blue sky above. It Is 
pleasant to linger here through the late 
afternoon, to take picnic lunch on some 
high green bank, with the sweet, faint 
fragrance of wUd-grape bloom in the 
air, and drift down the stream again 
with the glories of a summer sunset 
flooding the, sky and waters, dipping an 
oar now and then to avoid a sharp turn 




SCBNE ON THE PA\\"rUXErr. 

or a spreading sand-bar— the work of the 
gi-eat freshet. And to one who ^islted 
the river In the time when the wild roar- 
ing flood spread far over the^se green 
meadows, the wonder Is that the river 
ever found Its own narrow channel again. 
These trees that stand high on the green 
banks were baptized with a, rushing tor- 
rent, and the drift Is lodged even yet 
among their branches. Tufts of grass 



THE PAWTUXET BIVEB. 



147 



and twigs waved forlornly aU the sum- 
mer from tlie topmost arch of the higlj 
bridge. Boxes and barrels and all man- 
ner of lighter drift were hurrying down 
past the submerged boat-houses, anchored 
to trees to prevent their being swept 
down-stream, as was a little house far- 
ther up the river. Unpleasant reminders 
lie all along the river to this day in the 
shape of pebbly shallows, over which a 
boat grinds harshly and unexpectedly. 




RHODES' S ON THE PAWTDXETP. 

Two young men rowed up the Pawtuxet 
one day last summer and went ashore 
at a favorite point, joyfully bearing a 
lunch basket, and advancing with pleas- 
urable anticipation toward a grassy nook 
In the distance. Suddenly, the foremost 
youth espieid, gazing at him with an ex- 
pression of deadly malice, an enormous 
dog. . He tiu-ned about without a word 
and walked shoreward. His companion, 
cut short In a romoBstrance by the same 
apparition, did likewise, and they re- 
embarked and rowed some distance up 
the stream before the silence was broken. 

Then said the first young man non- 
chalantly, " That wasn't a very good 
place, to lunch In, was It?" 

"No," said the other. "It wasn't 
Bhady." And they rowed on. 

Those learned In Pawtuxet lore know 
where to look for cold springs that bub- 
ble up on the— starboard bank; for 
whether It be east, west, north or south, 
who shall say, unless he keep his eye 
turned constantly seaward; they know 
where to disembark and walk across the 
fields to the pumping station, where they 
may view the ponderous great giant with 
limbs of steel and Iron, toiling by night 
and day for the thirsty folk of Providence ; 
and they may ascend the narrow stair- 



case that twines about the tall tower 
and view the landscape— if they have 
steady nerves and are, not seized with a 
sudden fear of the tower's toppling In- 
stantly over. 

There Is one enthusiastic lover of the 
Pawtuxet who nas seen its banks clothed 
in the sheen of early spring, in the green 
apparel of mid-summer, in the splendid ar- 
ray of autumnal coloring and in the white 
mantle of winter; and who, better stUl, 
has caught the spirit of its varying phases 
and reproduced them on canvas with a 
marvellous fidelity to nature. Mr. Bar- 
low, the artist, has given us many lovely 
bits of Rhode Island landscape, but among 
them the Pawtuxet scenes stand foremost. 
Moshassuck Park in late autumn and la 
winter moonlight— the winding shore by 
the Stonlngton railroad bridge— the shal- 
lows of the turbulent rapids. 

But no artist could paint the exciting 
struggles with sand-bar and current, the 
laborious passage up-stream, or the swift 
gliding rush downward, that make per- 
petual excitement about these rapids. 
UntU the big freshet the rapids could be 
passed with comparative ease, but the 
sand deposits left by the freshet Ihave 
made the feat a more dlfiicult one, and 
not a few valiant rowers have submitted 
to the alternative of getting out and wad- 
ing, with the unyielding boat In tow, or 




UP STEEAM. 

remaining below to laugh at other aspir- 
ing boatloads. 

One Decoration Day, a day when a 
rather unusuaJ combination of circum- 
stances made hard work for many rowers 
—and possibly lor Messrs. Rhodes and 
Gardner also— one or two picnics were 



148 



PLEASAJ^T PLACES IN EHODE ISLAND. 



1 



held at a distance up the river, and the 
row-boats of botTi above-mentioned parties 
■were all hired for the day, as late comers 
learned to their sorrow. 

The early morning's \'lolent shower, 
■with pe''haps some other unexplained 
cause, had raised the river nearly a foot, 
and the picnic parlies got above the 
rapids vnth little trouble. During the 
day the -water subsided; and when 1:he 
fleet of boats came do'wn at night, one 
by one, tliey grounded on the verj- spots 
o^ver which they had gilded so merrily In 
the morning. Above and below, and 
in the rapids, they stuck fast ; our own 



own boats olf the shallows looked on In 
sceptical admiration. The young man 
ptilled desperately, but made no headway, 
and his boat was bumped against by a 
half-dozen others which had freed them- 
selves and were gliding down the rapids 
with a swift, slieut spctd. Everj^body 
was talking and Issuing orders at once; 
a little dog In a waiting boat barked 
■wUdiy. The adventurous young man at 
last gave up, and swung rapidly down 
stream again. Across the river, aloof 
from the sitrnggltng throng, a youngster 
sat in a shell, anchoring himself by 
clutching the long water-grass on either 




PErrTAOOXSETT PUMPING STATION. 



party, rowing up stream "with a boat pro- 
cured after two hours waiting, c;ime 
upon the "In"vincible Armada" struggling 
■with ■wind and cun-ent, wlille the sun 
went down upon their -wrath. It was 
an exciting scene. Ail the up-coming 
boats "waited below, not caring for an en- 
counter in the rapids. 

" Stay wliere you are — I'll come up and 
get you olT 1" bawled a valiant youth alone 
In a sldlf, to some grounded friends 
above ; and he stripped off his coat and 
rowed bravely for the rapids, while all 
the parties not occupied in shoving tielr 



side, and sending a shrill and deri-lve 
laugh across the water at each new at- 
tempt to breast the rapids. 

By the time the last boa I had freed 
Itself and glided down the babbling 
stream, the sun bad set and the waters 
were darkening. We lingered on the 
shore to watch the day lie In these green 
solitudes. A muskrat lifted a cautious 
head above the water and swam silently 
across, and a belated bird flew overhead 
with a sleepy twitter, dark against the 
crimson, sky. The night wind began to 
stir the trees along the lonely shore, and 



II 



THE PAWTUXET BIVEB. 



149 



a faint chorus ol frogs rose from some 
distant swampy hollow. A bat wheeled, 
and cii'cled over the waters, and the mos- 
qidtoes, alas'l had learned where we were 
lingering, and joyfully thronged ahout us. 
We re-emharJied and dropped down 
, stream again In the -wake of the departed 
, picnickers. Through the broad arch of 
> the demolished bridge, and between the 
1 piers of the railway bridge which requii-e 
\ more careful steering, we floated, and the 
t lights of the boat houses twinkltd around 
I a distant bend. And making more haste, 
; that we might catcih the next city-bound 
; car, we touchea at the landing and de- 
livered our boat over to the genial Mr. 



Rhodes, who received us as hospitably as 
if we had not been one of fifty similar 
parties. 

Across th& pretty pleasure grounds, 
where an odor of roast clams seemed 
still to linger, we strolled, and walked 
Pawtuxet-ward to meet oui- car. 

Down in that quaint little viliago Is a 
real, genuine egg-plant, such as Grandma 
Fisher adorned before the "Ark." Its 
fragile blossoms may not yet have with- 
ered. Did its owners originate the idea, or 
are they readers of " Cape Cod Folks 1" 

But here Is oiir car, and a forty min- 
utes ride therein brings us home with 
pleasant memories. 



CUMBERLAND HILL AND SNEACH POND. 



[Worcester Railroad to Manville, 12 miles north of Providence. Fare, 35 cents. Hotel carriage to 
Hill, one mile. Highland House, George A. Jenks. 



PEOPLE are beginning to realize that 
EJiode Island, in the summer months 
Is something more than Narragan- 
sett Bay. Scattered through our northern 
townships are several wild and beautiful 
spots, where the lovers of hills and lakes 
and breezy forests annually take their out- 
ing, and one of the chief of these is Cum- 
berland Hill. 

ItjS hlgilii, clear air Ss alone !a tonic, with- 
out Its fair accessories. The highroad that 
runs from Providence to Worcester trav- 
erses here the highest table land in the 
State, though Diamond, Copper Mine and 
Beacon Pole Hills aU present isolated 
crags still higher. When one remembers 
that the Worcester Railroad follows the 
beautiful winding Blackstone up a gradu- 
ally ascending slope till the Hill's nearest 
station, ManvUle, is reached, he realizes 
tliat even the low river tunnel behind the 
hills, in which he alights, is itself consid- 
erably above sea level. And yet, on 
either side, the "green hills lift tlieir long, 
high outlines against the sky, on the left, 
the white highway leading over the Lm- 
coln hill to Lime Rock, opposite Ashton 
and Berkeley ; on the right, the way turn- 
ing by a sttU steeper route to Cumberland 
Hill. 

If one Is golQg as a guest to the High- 
land House, or Is expected by friends, he 
will no doubt be met at the station and be 
borne buoyantly up the long incline ; but 
the unexpected stranger must walk, and 
perhaps it is well, for he will most forci- 
bly realize thereby that it Is a hill Indeed 
he Is ascending, up and up, past barring 
rock masses on either hand, on and on 
over a brief respite, and then up and still 
up again, till at the far end of the lessen- 



ing ascent is described the landmark ol 
the road's terminus at the Worcester high- 
way, the Baptist Church, with its four- 
pronged belfry which balloonlsts would do 
weU to avoid. Here stretch on either 
hand the long, hard road, the dwell- 
ings, ancient and modern, of old and 
new residents. There are no side roads 
to explore ; Cumberland Hill stands for 
review in ;brave file along this one lugh- 
way. All along the road, with its 
narrow beaten footpath, between the 
wayside grasses and ladies' tobacco bloom 
the wild flowers of up-country— the snai>- 
dragon, daisy and wild parsnip, the yar- 
row, whose root If one eats he will never 
more have the heartache, or so the Adiron- 
dack folk believe— and over the walls the 
jewel weed peeps, and the feathery cle- 




niGHK4XD HOUSE. 

matis tangles itself with wild grapes. 
Cumberland Hill residents have in the ma-i 
iority ranged themselves on the road's east 
side, and wisely ; for they have before them 
the changing, varying lights and shadows 
of tlie far range of western hill, blue In 
the forest depths, golden on the parched 
bare slopes. Quails are whlstUng and call- 
ing happily from right and left, the crick- 
ets are trillmg cheerUy. They, too, have 



CUMBEBLANJ) BILL AND SNEACB POND. 



151 



taken an outing at Cumberland Hill, it 
would seem, for soutliward their happy 
Ittle voices are tMs season strangely silent- 
Just at the corner, where an eastern road 
iurns to Diamond Hill, stands the one 
tiouse of entertainment, the Highland 
House, keeping open doors the year round, 
ind quite as apt to shelter sleigliing par- 
ies in winter as city hoarders in summei'. 
It is not a pretentious hotel by any means, 
but just a big, roomy d-wellmg house, 'with 
1 long eU. It stands on a grassy lawn 
in the shade of noble elms, and both it 
lind its next door neighbor belong to Mrs. 
C. A. B. Weeden, who occupies the second 
tiouse. The Highland House has usually 
been managed by George A. Jents of Paw- 
tucket, but as that gentleman has charge 
Ipf a hotel in the Bahamas until September, 
'pie bill hotel is managed by Mr. and Mrs. 
Dyrus Taft, whose own beautiful home is 
but a mile below here, standing lofty on 
an elevated lawn on the west side of the 
poad. Mrs. Taft boasts the largest num- 
ber of genuine antiques— china and furni- 
ture—of any one in the neighborhood. A 
descendant of the Providence Earles, the 
ibid North Main street homestead fell to 
tier, and she says that from its capacious 
and well-stored attics she took enough sub- 
stantial, old-time furnishings to stock this 
aew home at the hill. It is a most envia- 
ble collection. Mrs. Weeden has also a 
multitude of odd chairs, stands, card tables, 
clocks and china, her own heirlooms, 
among them a Revolutionary chair owned 
by the late Mr. Weeden's grandfather. 

Two miles above is the famous old 
BaUou meeting house, a plain, barn-lUce 
ijtructure, so old that its exact date of 
ipuHdlng is not now known, though it is 
thought to be about 1700. It has a most 
jurious pulpit, but !no sounding board, as 
t has often been said to have— confused, 
10 doubt, with another century-old church 
farther south, which was some time 
igo burnt down through the agency of 
small boys and matches. Cumberland Hill 
!was until quite lately the centre of the 
township ; all gatherings of Importance 
were held here, all travelling entertaln- 
ments from circuses to Punch and Judy 
shows, but now growing AVoonsocket has 



usurped this honor, and nothing of the 
circus pauses here but the gorgeous rep- 
resentations of strange beasts and fairies 
of the ring, that fresco the walls of tiie 
gray little blacksmith shop among the 
wayside daisies. 

Good teams are to be had here, and 
there are no such beautiful drives in the 
State as lie westward through lime Rock:, 
northward over Beacon Pole, eastward to 
Diamond HIU and the HUl Kocics, and 
southward about Lonsdale and Qulnsnlcket. 
And the jewel of Diamond Hill lies but 




WmilAM "WATERMAN HOtJSH. 

a few rods eastward through the gnarled 
sloping apple orchard back of the Hlgih- 
land House — Sneacb pond, lying silent and 
lonely among its lilies, its fringing alders 
and pine woods, and the green, wooded 
heights that climb stUl higher eastward 
to Copper Mine Hill, unspoiled In its wlld- 
ness by habitation of man. The birds 
and all wild creatures have it their own 
way hei'e: no modern improvements ex- 
cept a new ice house erected at the wood's 
edge by the Woonsocket Company have 
been intTOduced, and the cows graze 
among the gnarled old apple trees that 
run down to its western edge. Some of 
the more romantic city boarders have 
manifested a tendency of late years to 
rechrlsten this fair spot "Echo Lake," 
and allude to It thus in private or even 
printed letters ; but such foUy • can be 
only spasmodic and local. Sneach pond 
it Is and will be, a name peculiar to 
itself, and worth a dozen Echos or Mir- 
rors or Pearls. The full name was an 
Indian one, how spelt in truth I cannot 
say, but phonetically it is Sneachkahonk, 
and said to imitate the cry of the wild 
goose. It is a bit of presumption in sum- 



152 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



mer guests to recliiisten an old atand-by 
of the kind, to be realized, perliaps, by 
requesting them to think whether they 
would take it kindly If our countiy cousins 
came to to^vn and Insisted on renaming 
Market Square Jones's Four Comers. 

In the quaint little white old-fashioned 
cottage, vine decked, that stands directly 
opposite the station road, two huge dead 
trees draped with woodbine, standing as 
sentinels. Miss Rachel Sayles of Pawtucket 
Uves. With her Is her brother, William 
R. Sayles, who has tried Cape Ood and 
vastly prefers Cumberland Hill. Mr. 
Walter Cook occupies a tall gray pUlared 
house luxuriant with the scarlet and green 
of a huge trumpet \me and shaded by 
great elms, which was imtil recently tlae 
old Cumberland bank. Near it is a bit 




CUMBEELAJSTD HTT.Ti BANK. 

of a sloping, gray stone cottage, its end 
literally buried in Ivy with only peep 
holes of windows showing. This is Wil- 
liam Waterman's house. The roomy, 
picturesque old farm house that stands 
farthest north is the property of Ornando 
Vose, now summering at Prudence Park; 
meanwhile the pleasant old place is let 
to Mr. Arthiir Brown, the Providence law- 
yer. WUJiam H. BaUou of Providence 
has built one of the prettiest homes here, 
a long, brown, cosey and cool looking 
house with deep veranda and bow win- 
dows. 

'By and by when the northeast sends 
fiercer blasts the country-folk of Cumber- 
land, gathered around a hospitable fire, 
vrUl, warmed by the exhilarating mug of 
cider, narrate to open-mouthed youngsters 



the legends with wrdch the whole town 
Is richly fraught— <j1 the gnost of Poker 
Hill, perhaps, an eccentric spook which 
prefers travelUng without Its head, and 
which is said to drag perpetually a heavy 
log by means of a golden chain. A stal- 
wart youth of our acquaintance very 
nearly saw it one dark night. He heard 
it, stumbling over the quartz bowlders 
and groping through the tangled under- 
growth, as he walked timorously by. He 
even recognized the dull thud of the log 
thumping heavily behind, and— oh, hor- 
rors I the clank of the golden chain. Had 
he fled then the episode would have been 
charming; but alas! the ghost gave one 
wUd leap Into the road directly before 
him, and slowly materialized Into an old 
horse, dragging Its moorings behind it. 
This anecdote must not detract from the 
authenticity of the real ghost, however. 
Then there is the tale of the weird old 
woman who lived alone in the little black 
house, and told fortunes that came true. 
She wore -a red kerchief round her head, 
which concealed quite a formidable gray 
beard, and she was thought to be a witch. 
The juvenUe population were quite pre- 
pared to vouch for her occasional headers 
into space on the witch's conventional 
steed— a broomstick. ' But the poor old 
woman Is gone now, and conjectures are 
vain. 

Then it Is weU known that burled In 
the depths of Little Pond lie tr«'o golden 
tables, which are to be drawn from their 
lurking place only by the united endeavoi'S 
of an honest farmer and six milk-white 
steers. The scarcity of milk-white steers 
has, so far, prevented the attempt from 
being made. 

There is the veracious history of Je- 
mima Wllldnson, the " Second Christ," of 
Cumberland, who had quite a band of fol- 
lowers, and who, among other miracles, 
walked on the water, that is, she set out 
well and " slumped in" only through lack 
of faith in her adherents. 

Mrs. Weeden's mother, who recently 
died, was the oldest lady in the town, hav- 
ing completed her 97th year. This old 
lady was familiar with the erratic career 
of the ■'■'second Christ" and recalled hear- 



CUMBEBLAND HILL AND SNEACH POND. 



153 



ng lier own mother relate that she once 
net at a funeral the eccentric Jemima, 
yhom she unthinMngly addressed by name. 
Hade answer the second Christ, with 
laughty dignity, " Some calls me Jemima, 
mt I prefer to he called the. Comforter. " 
Che Lirthplace of this aspiring being was 
wo or three miles below. 

The people at the HUl are quite confl- 
lent that by another season electric cars 
will Kpeed from Pawtucket to Woonsocket. 
This would be an astounding "boom" for 
)he Hill, and those who know it not would 
;hen learn what an altogether delightful 
3pot it is. 

In our many wanderings about the hill 
Lovely Sneach Pond always drew us as 
with a magnet, beckoning with force Irre- 
sistible, and seeming to say, "Abide with 
me. Tarry for more than a day on my 
green shores and learn my secrets." 

Why should we not? The whole sam- 
jmer was before us ; why not spend a week 
in a real gypsy tent, and live a whUe with 
nature undefiled? 

To Sneach Pond, tlierefore, we set our 
faces, with vague ideas of turning hermit, 
making morbid and cynical reflections on 
)ur fellow-men, and writing a second " Wal- 
den." Only we should not call it Walden, 
but " Sneach," which would be neat," ap- 
propriate, and, if brevity be the soul of 
wit, exceedingly witty. But when our 
itent arose, white, fair and hospitable, 
from the rocky promontory jutting out 
into the lonely little lake, we forgot both 
icynlcism and philosophy. What was there 
to do but live a life of indolent leisure, a 
ipart of the leisurely growing vegetating 
world around us? We felt the primeval 
savage stirring within us as we sat be- 
fore our stone-built fireplace, and tended 
the sputtering fish— our fish, that our oAvn 
hands had pulled from their native ele- 
ment but a few short moments since— as 
their backbones slowly counterfeited a 
contortion of deadly agony as the fierce 
heat seized them, and the wild flames, 
caught by the wan<?oring breeze, soared 
redly upward. Nay, a vague and evanes- 
cent impression seized us, as we tenderly 
laid a tiny pillow of salt pork under the 
uneasy head of a slowly browning young 



pickerel— that sometime, countless 
ago, perhaps, this had been life's normal 
condition with us, when cities were things 
unknown. Why does the dog, before re- 
tiring to his nightly rest, turn around and 
around on his cushion or straw-strewn 
floor, or whatever forms his pallet, before 
he sinks to repose? Let not the scoffing 
say he does It to find the head of his bed ; 
no, it is the habit Inherited from remote 
ancestors who trampled down the wiry 




J. WILKINSON'S BIRTHPLACE. 

grass and brakes of the jungles where 
their savage lodging lay ; so we, in return- 
ing to primeval simplicity, felt within ua 
the joy of our savage grandparents, no 
doubt. Else why, as the days glided by, 
our growing tendlency to discard those 
utensils of civilization, the knife, fork and 
napldn, and cluster, an a.micable trio about 
the savory frying pan? And the clear- 
ing-up--ah, what a boon to weary house- 
keepers would such as ours be I Armed 
with each a tin plate and mug, we formed 
a procession do^wn to the rippling lakev 
and with a splash, a dip, and a hanging 
up to dry, our housework was over. 
Friendly little servants, too, were the 



154 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



wandering ants, wlio cheerfiiJly and speed- 
ily cleared our green carpet of stray 
crumtos thrice a day. And as we ate, we 
gazed upon the glory of sky and for- 
est and shore, and were doubly filled. 
Even now, we have hut to close our eyes, 
and we see again the marvellous splendor 
of that first sunset across tlie darkening 
water, while the western heavens turned 
with crimson and gold and threw a 
bi-iUiant pathway straight down the cen- 
tre of the dancing lake, while along 
the far shores lay the dark and 
unbroken reflections, cool, green and 
tranquil, of the sUent forest. And 
away to the south, where the dying 
sun rays pursued and smote the gray 
wraiths of flying clouds that had lj\it now- 
poured out hasty vials of wrath on the 
stauncn canvas of our little tent, the 
prismatic colors of a rainboAv bent to the 
horizon, and faintly fading upward to tlie 
zenith, framed in our lair picture. It is 
not every camping party who has a poem 
written expressly for them by a pen of 
renown, but we had : for presently, across 
the yet crimson glory of the fading sun- 
set, flying from the reedy shure to the 
more remote haunts in the northern 
swamp, passed a hea-on, with his shrill 
cry softened by distance. Was It not for 
this strange pidtare In the gloaming that 
Bryant wrote — 

""Whittier, midst falling dew, 
While glow the heavens with the last stei)S of 

day. 
Far through their rosy depthSj dost thou pursue 
Thy solitary way? 

Vainly tihe fowler's eye 
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong. 
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, 

Thy figure floats along." 

Then, as the twilight deepened, a heavy 
and sombre band began to play beneath 
the water— a Chinese band, we felt sure, 
by the nature of the music and the 
guttural voices of the instruments. No 
giddy waltz could those sub-aqueous 
merry makers he treading to the wiTd 
and sombre music, but the stately 
measures of a minuet. We sat on tha 
rocks in the dew and starlight till a 
tinier and shilller chorus about our ears 



drove us Indoors In despair. We pinned 
mosquito netting across our door-flaps, 
seated ourselves on oui- rude, but inviting, 
couches, and in the gloom told tales and 
sang songs till drowsiness bade us seek 
repose. What a fresh and novel delight 
was there in lying listening tu the mani- 
fold voices of the night, breathing in the 
keen scent that growing herbs exhale at 
nightfall and feeling, if we flung out a 
hand from our humble cots, tlie crisp and 
growing blades of grass beneath our 
fingers. The gleaming jewels of Cas- 
siopeia's chair overhung the silent lake 
and sparkled In our shrouded door\Yay. 
It would have been perfect but>— oh, these 
mosquitoes ! 

It was no use to be sUent and tranquil. 
How could one -preserve tranquility with 
six vigorous and energetic mosquitoes 
quarreling for the best place on the tip 
of one's nose ? Our tent resounded witli 
slappings, exasperated sighs and execra- 
tions, while a monotonous and Incessant 
chorus, pitched in a very high key, sounded 
resolutely from everywhere. We heard 
distant bells, across the ridge, of Cumber- 
land Hill, strike the hours. 

" Two o'clock and all's swelled 1" we 
heard somebody mutter in sardonic ac- 
cents. How we welcomed the dawn that 
presently reddened the eastern slcy, and 
sent our uncanny visitors fleeing. At 
last we slept, bllssfuily and long— how 
long deponent saith not— but thereafter 
at twUlght four tiny smouldering fires 
sent up their vigU lights without the 
four corners of our tent, and mosquitoes 
attacked us no more. 

But what rude awakening was ours, as, 
lost in oblivion, we sought to make up the 
needed repose lost in those baleful night- 
watches 1 Were, wild and savage beasts 
still roaming at large in these neighbor- 
ing jungles ? Gigantic footsteps were 
surely crashing about our tent, as we 
listened, struggling between waking and 
sleeping. And. oh, horrors of horrors, a 
loud and fierce breathing sounded in our 
very ears, and before our slumber-dimmed 
eyes was thrust through the inse,cure 
fastenings of our western door a gigantic 
head with staring eyes and menacing 
horns I It was a— why, what was it 1 



CUMBEELANB HILL AND SNEACH POND. 



155 



owly the terrlMe apparition grew famil- 
r and more tnoffensive of aspect. It 
IS a — cow I 

ThoroTiglily awake now, we betook our- 
Ives down to ottr own particvilar flat 
ck, and kne.ellng at the water's edge, 
king a long, refreshing dip downward 
d letting the breeze seize us full in our 
ces as we emerged dripping and gasp- 
g, we tasted the fresh joy of the sum- 
er morning to the full. Was there 
*t, too, a sweet and elusiTe odor wafted 
mtly to us on the caressing south wind? 
1, thence It was borne. There lay the 
pite lake failles in hundreds la dainty 
[ps of bronze and olive green, and up- 
rnei by leathery dull green pads of 
,ves, which, the wind catching, showed 
ery now and then a glowing crimson 
im their hidden nnder-surfaces. How 

reveled in lilies through our too brief 
ay. We wore them, we decorated our 
fors with them, we gave them away, and 
ill, toUing upward unerringly from the 
ad and slime below, they daily unfurled 
eir gold and white banners to the wel- 
»me of sun and wind, and there were 
lough and to spare. It was no rare 
;ht, as we sculled our little boat in and 
.t among the, clinging pads, to see sitting 

state high and dry upon some one of 
eir level dislcs, a melancholy, green 
eked frog, whioh did not even condescend 

be afraid of us. Dragon flies, too, 
ve,red confldingly about the blue spikes 
! pickerel weed that grew in straight 
,.nks from the shallow water, bumble 
I es kicked up their heels in gay abandon 

the hearts of wild roses that fringed 
le bank, and once, as we sat motionless, 
ichoreid close to shore, a business-Uke 
:tle weasel came walking briskly down 
' the water, and beholding us, paused 
id sat upright with his tiny paws dxoop- 
'g befoi-ei his white breast in an ex- 
lemely engaging manner. One sight of 
3 was not enough, either, for after per- 
rming his errand, whatever it was, and 
epartlng, (he as suddenly reappeared 
;aln, twice and thrice, and subjected us 
• the same searching scrutiny. It re- 
lireis a clear conscience and plenty of 
me to look a weasel out of countenance. 



And now what should we do through 
tiiese long, bright, care-free days ? There 
was the lake to na-ST.gate in the first 
place, the "Harris rocks" across the 
watei" to be explored, the green eastern 
hill to climb, whose summer woods 
smiled as serenely down upon the mirror- 
ing waters as though Its heart were not 
pierced with a dozen deadly shafts 
where, in days of old, the copper industry 
waxed brisk. There were the six oaks 
on the breezy iiDlside above us, where 
swung our hammocks, shut in by the vast 
rock-walls that stretched across the west- 
ern approach like the work of some of 
those phenomenal old-time labor-loving 
men who carted around rocks just for 
the fun of it; here we were wont to read 
a little, talk a little and gaze a good deal 
more, whUe the glimmering lake turned 
gray, wiiite or blue, at the will of the 
flying clouds, and where, far off to the 
eastward, the fa.tntly discerned barrel on 
Beacon Pole HUl rose sturdily and invit- 
ingly aloft; Diamond HUl also lay within 
easy walking idistance ; who Icnew what 
mineral treasures might be unearthed 
there— since one of us had already found 
a wee bit of amethyst among the Harris 
rocks ? But when one can go anywhere 
anytime the desire to do so ceases, and 
we sat about or went berrying and fishing 
Snd mushrooming In our savage and ig- 
norant way, and knew nor cared no more 
whether the Cove Basin was filled up yet 
and Grace Church clock set a-going than 

if we were members of the •; but 

someone says hush. Not wholly isolated, 
either, were we ; every now and then 
came stroUing summer guests from the cot- 
tages or hotel of Cumberland Hill propei- ; 
lor a morning row, or a lily-gathering, 
or a day's fishing they came; they gave 
us good advice and told us fables about 
the black bass of Sneach Pond, when, to 
the best of our knowledge and belief, it 
contains not a thing but pickerel, perch, 
bullpout and miserable little roach. There 
were three or four entertaining boys, 
whose row boat was moored near our 
dwelling, and who made the r-ocky shores 
their dally resort. Right merry, gallant 
and frank little lads they were, and we 



156 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



missed them sadly wlien the weather or 
other engagements kept them at home. 

On Sunday tlie lake and its horders 
grew more lively ; the woi-ldng lads and 
lassies Irom tlie mlLl ^^llage now and then 
found their way up here, and the rocks 
and hills echoed to other voices thaJi tlie 
hoarse bass of the frog and the scream of 
the wUd heron. A happy tiling it 
seemed that this fair and quiet breathing 
place lay within so easy access of the lew 
who are to be found in every hamlet who 
really love nature for its own sake. 
Tropliies of wild flowers, water lUies and 
luscious blackberries they bore away, to 
brighten other homes with their coming, 
beside pleasant memories wliich happily 
may be borne world-wide. We must not 
forget a mention of the genial old coun- 
tryman wlio was wont to pass our tent 
daily in some mysterious cross cut, and 
whose beaming face glowed regularly in 
upon us with the unvarying salutation, 
"What be ye all— takln' yer comfort?" 

But there came a morning when we 
looked out upon nothing but a wide, still 
graymess : when clouds and sky and 
forest and wind-driven lake were one in 
hue, and birds were silent and hidden. A 
chiU wind blew a flying mist in our faces 
as we ventured a first look outside our 
doors ; we went jubilantly down to our 
bathing rock through the fog and rain- 
laden grasses, feeling that to-day was all 
our own. Blue sides and tranquil waters 
were for transient pleasure-seekers, but 
this shoreless gray sea that stretched 
eastwaj-d with its wild lapping waves rush- 
ing to our feet through the green lances 
of the sturdy pickerel-weed— this and the 
wild wet wiud that smote our faces were 
oui- very o%\ti. like gray, ragged ghosts 
of the air the battered mist clouds went 
flying past us inland, catching and 
shattering In the glistening wet bushes; 
out In the translucent gray distance, fair 
white spheres dotted the heaving waters— 
the dear white faithful Ulies, sunny- 
hearted still . How glad we were of a 
storm I camping out would have been but 
a tame aflair with only sunny sides. 
After breakfast, made within-doors this 
time, we betook ourselves shrouded in 
ghostly gossamers down to our waiting 



row boat for a morning's fishing, 
must have fish, rain or no rain, and th^j 
clouds were Ulttng just now. So out Into ) 
gray space we pushed, and, with lines 
flung wide, patiently waited. What was 
tills distant muflled roar that presently 
sounded faintly, like the tramping of 
hosts down the wild hlUside? We 
listened and wondered, not knowing that 
in a moment more we should be caught by 
Kuhleborn. Our eyes pierced the gray 
veil of mist that hung about us, and aa 
the roar came nearer, we cried with one 
acc'ord, " Rain 1" How thanklul we felt 
to be afloat on a lake, where a deluge, 
more or less, could not hurt us. We 
wrapped our protecting manties tight 
around us, and bent our heads to the 
downpour. The whole surface of the lake, 
as far as we could see, looked as if 
covered with a raised steel bead-work, 
with the force of the rebounding rain- 
drops. We sat It out as long as possible, 
but there was no diminution, and we 
"pulled for the shore." 

All day long our tent sheltered us and 
a hundred flies, and a wondering little 
toad which evidently congratulated Itself 
on having found such a commodious and 
waterproof toadstool. We read and talked 
and ate, and speculated on the weather 
probabilities. At length, late in the eve- 
ning, the clouds parted, and we stepped 
rejoicingly out into the moist air for a 
look at the heavens. But what menacing 
constellations were these that greeted us ! 
In the north the Great Dipper hung alone, 
with suggestions of plenty more rain In- 
side. Southward the Little Dipper, up- 
side down and drained dry, showed us . 
where the downpour had come from ; and 
further west, through a rift In the drUdng 
clouds, Aquarius, the water bearer, leaned 
uunchalantly on a cloud-bahk, as If only 
waiting his time to give us particular fits. 
These alone appeared through rifts In 
the drifting clouds. Appalled, we fled 
within door?, and the foreboding constella- 
tions fiUfilled their promise. Another day 
of rain dawned upon us, and now a gentle 
stream from the northeast corner of our 
tent was triclding gayly within. How 
we rejoiced now in our gigantic fryingpan, 
the -victim of much ridicule 1 we slipped It 



CUMBERLAND BILL AND SNEACH POND. 



157 



indemeatli tlie camvas, and our floor was 
laved. But before tent-lUfe had fairly 
)alled upon us, tlie skies cleared as if by 
nagic, and, still high and dry, we and 
,he toad stepped gayly forth into freedom. 
feo the days glided on, In "the land in 
.vhich it seonied ajways ai'lernoon" — and 
was, mostly— till the sad day came when 



what had once been our home was only 
a melancholy hole in the air ; when we 
packed our fryingpan and left our fire- 
place desolate and returned to civilization. 
But Sneach Pond is always thert>, and we 
shall return. Will not the waves laugh 
for delight and the green woods wave a 
welcome? If not, we shall fancy so. 



THROUGH THE NORTHERN TOWNSHIPS. 



[A two days drive from Providence and back.] 



EARLY on a breezy summer morning, 
a light, but commodious beach 
wagon drew up bel'ore our dot>r, 
and into it we packed away with pleas- 
urable anticipation, irying-pan and cof- 
fee-pot, pork, potatoes, and other Jdudred 
supplies, for we were bound for a two 
days trip, and /were to cook our own 
meals by the wayside. The scene of 
our wanderings was to be the northern 
half of Rhode Island. 

We had decided to postpone our Euro- 
pean tour, and to take this one instead, 
for we deplored the Ignorance of Conti- 
nental travellers, who kiiew nothing of 
their own country ; besides, we could be 
gone only two days, anyway. 

Our course lay due north for a time, 
and we passed the gypsy encampment in 
the Pawtticket suburbs without a sigh, 
for were we not to have a taste of wild 
life for ourselves ? Following the Black- 
stone, our way led past the high bank 
looking olF into the counterfeit present- 
ment of a salt marsh, and over whose 
then unguarded edge a valuable yoke of 
oxen once walked to their death, on a 
darlv night years ago. Their owner had 
tarried too confidently in the rear, and 
the oxen meekly obeying the command 
to " Haw," given by a passing team, had 
ste^Dped over the treacherous edge, and 
crashed to the bottom, where they were 
found a few moments later with broken 
necks. 

We passed Scott's pond, a picturesque 
enlargement of the Blackstone, made 
famous by its erratic floating island, for 
"Which two of us had searched In vain a 
few weeks before, and lo I there it lay 
before us now, a green wooded mystery, 
calm between us and the further shore. 



It is of goodly size, large enough to build 
a house upon, did one wish to trust hlm^ 
self to so fragile a foundation, and it 
densely wooded from end to end, a ma 
of shimmering green. It is said that 
young man once lost his life beneath It,* 
having rashly ventured there for a sub- 
aqueous view of Its structure. It Is sup- 
posed that he either became entangled 
among Its roots, or lost his way and 
strangled before he could regain its edge. 
But the Island tells no tales, and tran- 
quilly wanders up and down, at its own 
sweet will — or that of the winds and cur- 
rent. We passed the spot again at a 
later day, and our Island had come ashore I 
One could have stepped upon it from the 
beach. A fragment of It has become 
detached and roams about likewise, a 
wandering dot of green. 

Through Lonsdale we drove next, most 
picturesque of mUl villages, though lately 
shorn of the glory of a magnificent grove 
by the railroad station, displaced to make 
room for the gigantic new factory. 

We halted for a moment to admire the 
little Episcopal Church in the old village, 
which, with its lovely setting of green, 
we one and all declared to be the fairest 
gem of a church we had yet beheld. The 
railroad crossed, we passed through Berke- 
ley and Ashton, pretty villages, with the 
green hills receding from them back to a 
far horizon. Passing the Ashton grave- 
yard, we paused to read the Inscription 
on a great black headstone that bounds 
five graves. " One fate surprised them 
and one grave received them," reads the 
heading, and below, '-Sacred to the memory 
of HopestUl, wife of Russell Jenks, who, 
with her four children, was unfortunately 
drowned In Scott's pond." Then foUow 



THROUGH THE NORTHERN TOWNSHIPS. 



159 



the names and ages of the four little 
daughters, all under eleven yeaa-s of age. 
The poor mother, it is said, was insane, 
and droTe Into the pond with her wagon, 
and. made sure that every chUd was 
drowned Itefore she released her own. hold. 
Poor "Hopestill!" did the fair promise of 
her name luxe her on to a dream of rest 
beneath these engulphin'g waters ? 

And now we turn sharply eastward, 
and leave the river and the railroad be- 
hind us, as we begin to climb a long, 
wild hiE. The morning breeze blows 
freshly from its sloping stretches, land the 
quail are whistluig and calling across Its 
lonely pastures. Now and then we pass 
a wandering brook, winding leisurely 
down the meadows, its course markefd by 
the heavenly blue of the wild iris, guard- 
ed by the shining lances of 

"The rushes, the green yeomen of its manor. 
The outlaws of the sun." 

Somewhere about here is the historical 
spot called the "Mne men's misery," 
where perished a scouting party in Revo- 
lutionary times— nine brave men who, 
surprised by the Indians, stood daunt- 
lessly up before a protecting rock and 
returned the hostile fire till the last sur- 
vivor, standing bravely alone amid his 
fallen comrades, felt his own heart pierced 
by a fatal arrow. A great cairn of stones 
is said to mark the spot, and off in a dis- 
tant field we saw such an one. It may 
have been It, or— an equine grave. And 
now bj the wayside, holding their dainty 
heads defiantly up before our gladdened 
eyes, what should we espy but a cluster 
of maiden's hair fern. What were these 
lonely little pUgruns doing in Rhode 
Island, in a spot where one of us, who 
had roamed these hills for years, had 
never before beheld one? We gathered 
one spray for a memento and left the rest, 
but we shall not tell where they are. 
Presently, before a wayside cottage, a 
rockery gleamed upon us, dazzling in the 
sun. We all alighted and proceeded to 
examine the beautiful crystal masses, 
found at Diamond HUl, two or three miles 
beyond. It seemed rather an unsafe place 
to rear such a tempting structure, and 



there is no knowing how much of It 
would have been left when we drove on, 
had not a woman come opportunely around 
the comer, and begun a ,pleasiant chat 
with us. She gave us roses and informa- 
tion, but she did not pull down her rock- 
ery for us, tiough we were extravagant 
in our admiration. At parting she pre- 
sented us each with an enormous crimson 
peony which we bore about rather help- 
lessly until the bright idea occurred to us 
of adorning our vehicle with them. We 
stuck one in each of its four corners, 
where we could adipire them unrestrained. 

Arrived at the summit of the great wUd 
hill, we alighted once more, tied our 
horse and followed a cart path up a rocky 
pasture leading to an ancient rock thick 
with moss-groWn Impressions of naked 
footprints, becoming yearly less discerni- 
ble. Here also in the distant ages when 
this unyielding granite was softest clay, 
the devil, wearied with going up and down 
the earth as an itinerant preacher— which 
he must have done, judging by his various 
pulpits scattered broadcast through the 
country-^at him down to rest, and laid 
by hisi side his stout walking stick and 
his Irylng-pan — whatever he was doing 
with that. 

This legend we know to be true, for 
we saw the impression of both cane and 
pan in the solid rock. 

Desceinding presently froto this airy 
outlook, we found ourselves In the wildest 
and most primeval nook which we ever 
visited, in Rhode Island or elsewhere. A 
great ledge of rock, wild and jagged, rose 
to one Bide, great masses of clinging ivy 
and shrubs rioting about it, and set in a 
frame of gigantic forest trees. Round 
about it lay tumbled bowlders, and be- 
yond it were shaded deUs and wooded 
hillocks and locust groves— it was a com- 
bination of nature's wildest and most 
beautiful forms. We lingered here en- 
tranced, till the mounting sun warned us 
we had scant time to reach Sneach pond 
for our noonday camp, then went reluct- 
antly on. A short drive brought us to 
the wood road that leads to the lonely, 
hUl-bound lake and jolting over the pas- 
ture stones, we drew up at length under 



160 



PLEASANT PLAGES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



an enormous oak on the green slope over- 
looking the lake. 

Now was oiu" liour of bliss. We would 
make a lire and. cook our dinner. Joyfully 
■we essayed and dismayed we waited. The 
wood didn't burn. There was smoke, 
though. Plenty of it blew In our faces 
as we set the table on the grass, and 
watched the antrs and spiders skip joy- 
fully over our -siands. We were to have 
coffee, and we hung a tin paU of water on 
a long stick over the fire to heat. Pres- 
ently the fire waxed hot and burnt the 
stick and we took it hastily away and 
arranged another out of harm's way, and 
patiently waited. We were very hungry, 
but the potatoes were already In the 
ashes, roasting. 

Crash I hiss 1 splutter I what was that ? 
the handle of the pail melted off, and pail 
and contents In the tire. In de.spair we 
took out our alcohol lamp, "a small, 
slight thing the pressure of a finger 
might have crushed," and aneeMy made 
coffee on it. It w^asn't the way the gypsies 
would have done, but we would do differ- 
ently at supper time. We had plenty of 
tinned meats, and enjoyed dinner im- 
mensely. The potatoes wore not quite 
done when we finished, and we left them. 
Our hunger appeased, we had leisure to 
enjoy the view before us— the lonely, 
lovely lake, with the green silent woods 
stretching down to meet it, and the cloud- 
shadows Jhaking fantastic changes across 
Its rippling siirt'ace. It might have been 
one of the little silver gems sprinkled so 
plentifully through the Adirondacks, so 
far as appearances went. Surely, this 
was not the Rhode Island scenery to 
which we were accustomed. We lin- 
gered happily here for several hours, tlien 
we turned our course to Diamond HUl. 
We would have "visited the old copper 
mines near the pond, but knew not where 
thej' were, and there was no one of whom 
to make inquiry. Diamond HUl loomed 
up before us soon, lifting a scarred, brist- 
ling front against the sky. In the shadow 
of it we halted and made a hasty excur- 
sion up its side for a 11 title space, in 
search of "specimens." Not only beauti- 
ful masses of white and rose quartz 
crystiil have been found here, but more 



valuable varieties— even a rare amethyst 
geode being occasionally opened. But It 
is probable thao other excursionists had 
searched in the same spot we chose, and 
we found nothing better to reward ils than 
an occasional jasper vein In a rock or an 
isolated ci-ystal In an inaccessible caAity. 
A long ride was before us still, and our 
evening meal must be prepared and etiten 
hefore we should reach our lodging place, 
Woonsocket, for we were headed westward 
now, and w-ere to drive along the high 
range of the Cumberland Hills, becoming 
of late years very popular as a summer 
resort. A portion of the way led through 
a section somewhat demolished by the 
spring floods, and low and swampy at its 
best. Laborers were at work here with 
spades and shovels, the first people we 
had met since noon. And here, amid the 
mud and mire, were growing plants, per- 
haps familiar enough to botanists, but 
rare to us, perfect calla lilies In form and 
color, except that the pistil was rather 
greenish than golden. We dug some of 
these carefully up, and bore them about 
until the next day, when— but we antici- 
pate. The sun was setting when we 
drove into a _ little wood path and pre- 
pared for supper. The mosquitoes were 
beginning to be inquisitive, and we agreed 
that It would be better not to build a ifire 
to-night for our pork and potatoes— they 
would taste so much better In the morn- 
ing. We abandoned the idea reluctantly, 
for it had been the greatest feature of our 
hopes— a wayside fire and meals cooked 
thereat. But we brought the tiny lamp 
into requisition again, and had hot tea 
with our other eatables. One of us. 
rambling through the shadowT roads at 
the banquet's close, started a brood, hock, 
covey— which Is It? of young quail, which 
fled in rustling terror through the brush. 

It was quite dust when we turned back 
on the main road again, and we looked off 
from the long hill-road, over which we 
merrily sped, only Into mi'^ty dstince be- 
low, studdi'd with the evanescent flash of 
fireflies— the gleam of diamonds in the 
night^queen's gos.samer robes. 

The lights of Woonsocket gleamed 
cheerily throngh the gloom at last, and 
we drew up presently before the Monu- 



THROUGH THE NOBTHEBN TOWNSHIPS. 



161 



ment House, where some itinerant vendor 
had evidently just finished a lecture to a 
departing throng; he was packing away 
his goods in solltoide by his flickering 
torches. 

We were pleasantly and commodiously 
stowed away for the night in adjoining 
rooms, and fell happily asleep, well con- 
tent with our first day"s trip. 

We arose hetlmes— a word of vague 
meaning, but sounding well— and drove 
away, leaving the landlord obviously as- 



side road, which led, a guide-board said, 
to "Blaclvstone, two miles." We took our 
callas from the water pail and hid them 
among the bushes till we should return, 
for we needed the pail ; then on we went. 
Up and up, amid stones and gravel and 
deep ruts and a narrowing road and way- 
side trees that slapped our faces, looking 
vainly the while for a pair of bars. We 
jolted and scrambled, and still climbed on, 
waxing wroth and hungry at each mo- 
ment. Our horse rebelled, and We got 




GROUP OF SOITUATE HOTJS3ES. 



tonished at our having refused both sup- 
per and breakfast. 

Fried pork and johnny cakes we were 
firmly resolved to have this morning, as 
soon as we were well out of the Woon- 
socket suburbs. We drove west, for we 
were to explore the unknown wUds of 
EurrlUville and Glocester, which looked so 
tempting on the map. But we had not 
travelled far upon the broad highway be- 
fore we saw it furnished no suitable camp- 
ing groTjnd, so we turned no; th ward up a 
11 



out and walked. But there was "no 
backward path ; ah I no returning I " the 
road was too narrow to turn in, and we 
coulda't back a mile. We came to a lit- 
tle clearing presently, by an old barn, and 
here we stopped in despair and began mak- 
ing preparations for a fire. But the wind 
was strong and we feared to set the barn 
afire, so after some discussion we re- 
packed, got in the carriage and drove 
away, after ha\'ing taken the precaution 
to fill our paU at tflie well. We drove 



162 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



and drove. Not a cart path was to be 
found or a secluded nook anywhere. How 
cross we were 1 the m:ile members of the 
party, that is. It always makes men 
cross to be hungry. 

We arrived at Blackstone at last, and 
In spite of ill-temper, were sootlied by the 
lovely view from the hill top— fair mead- 
ows and uplands, and distant hiUs lying 
blue all abo it the horizon, the Utile vil- 
lage lying cosily among them liUe a nest. 
Alter divers turnings, we found ourselves 
d^i^lng back again, on a road parallel to 
our ascent of the Hill DLtticulty. But 
there was no good place to camp. We 
wanted a good place, now that we had 
come aU this distance for one, and we 
one and all declared we woiild go till we 
found one. We drove for about two 
hours, and came to a lovely nook in a 
great white pine grove do%\'n a sheltered 
cart path, and alighted in great Joy. But 
It was too late now to build a gypsy fiie, 
so we made coffee with the lamp, and ate 
tinned meats and crackers and fruits, and 
after a half hour's rest drove on. Words 
fall me to des'cribe that Bufrlllville wll- 
derni'ss. Sand and dust and hills, and 
great stretches of red and white clover 
fields, and now and then a house. And 
if ever we stopped at one for water the 
Inmates invarlbly came out and t Id us 
their well was the best in that part of the 
country, and never went dry. More sand, 
more hills— not picturesque hills, to look 
at, but sandy ones in the road, to cUmb, 
and sometimes a meeting house or a 
school house. One would think the " chief 
pursuits" were education and rell.^t n, in- 
stead of agriculture, as the geography 
says. 

We are told of the crowded condition 
of New England, and we know that 
Rhode Island is the most densely popu- 
lated State in the Union, but surely there 
is room lor all Kliode Island's inhabitants 
to come and stand in these up-and-down 
BuriUlv-ille clover fields ; if they want to, 
tliat is. Once was enough for us. 

By and by a suspicion seized us that 
we were going tJie wrong way, and were 
heading north instead of west, as we were 
following the Springfield railroad. A 
glance at the map would have set us 



straight, but we had scorned such guid- 
ance. We quarrelled vigorously for 
some time, partly for diversion and. 
partly because opinion was divided. The 
sun being overhead, it might have risen 
from any quarter of the heavens for 
all we Icnew. At length we met two men 
and a woman. They told us we were 
wltliin two miles of Pascoag, approaching 
Mapleville, and thus relieved we pressed 
forward. Just beyond a road led south- 
ward, and we turned gladly into it, for 
we wished soon to see Glocester scenery. 
Prospecting for dinner, one of us alighted 
and advanced to a house set back from 
the roadside, in whose yard cows were | 
browsing, and loiocking at the door, prof- 
fered a mild request for milk. He was 
met by an individual in scant raiment, 
consisting of a single garment, and who 
answered shortly, " We ain't got no i 
milk!" and slammed the door in Ms face. 




T.A PTTAM iNsnTDTa 

Thus repulsed, we continued our coui'se 
tin we came to a beautiful sheet of water 
lying at the foot of a sloping pasture, and 
which we decided, from our limited geo- 
graphical lore, must be Herring Pond. We 
took dinner tliere, but we made no fl^re, 
because we thought we would not have 
time. We gave some potatoes to two 
cows, who liked them quite as well raw. 

After dinner, resuming our ride, we 
drove for some distance along the shores 
of the pond, which we vere surprised to 
find of so great extent, and had hardly left 
it behind us when we were confronted by 
an institution we had deemed well-nigh 
obsolete in Rhode Island— an old-fashioned 
toll gate. The toll keeper was a garru- 
lous old man and entertained us with a 
long account of how the Glocester folks 



THBOUGII THE NORTHEBN TOWNSHIPS. 



163 



wouldn't take the road, and so on. He 
was curious to hear the news from Provi- 
dence, hut as he toolc a daily paper— how 
ever he got it— he had heard from there 
more recently than ourselves. He also 
set us right as to our whereabouts. We 
were in the southern part of Glocester, 
having traversed that townsMp without 
knowing it, and our Herring Pond was 
the Waterman Reservoir I 

Having paid our toll, we drove down 
to North Soituate for a glimpse of the 
lajce and the old Lapham Institute, 
afterward metamorphosed Into the Mos- 
wansicut Hotel, and then deserted to 
await an unknown fate. Poor old Lap- 
ham 1 Your stately, white pillared 
heights look no more down upon merry 
groups of studious youths and maidens, 
such as thronged here in your palmy days, 
before the seats of learning lay in cities ; 
but you made a most charming hotel, 
with accessories of grove and sparkling 
lake, and deserved a long future in that 
capacity. \ 

We drove down to the lake, which, 
pretty little sheet of water that it is, 
compared but poorly T^rith wild Sneach 
Pond among the northern hills. 



Then we supped for the last time on a 
secluded hillside not far from the ^dllage, 
and made cracker toast and coffee by the 
little alcohol lamp. It did not seem 
worth while to make a lire so near home, 
we remarked pensively. 

On the homeward ride from thence we 
had been speaking of the peculiar " cluck" 
of the whip-poor- wUl, which only one of 
us had ever been near enough to hear, 
when by one of those frequent strange 
coincidences, a whip-poor-will lighted upon 
a bush by the roadside and piped his best 
lor our benefit : " Whip-poor-will I (cluck) 
whip-poor-will ! (cluck)," and so on — an odd 
sound. 

Driving eastward through .Johnston, 
the electric lights of Providence shone at 
last upon us and our tour was ended. We 
had seen the townships of Providence, 
Pawtucket, Lincoln, Cumberland, Woon- 
socket. North Smithileld, BurrUlville, 
Glocester, Scituate and Johnston, and felt 
that we hud gained a fair idea of north- 
ern Rhode island geography. 

Some day we shall take the southern 
section and ch.mp out and have johnny- 
cakes and roast potatoes ; but perhaps it 
will be well to take an alcohol lamp also. 



I 



DIAMOND HILL. 



[New York and New England Railroad, 14: miles from Providence. Fare, 35 cents; 40 minutes ride.] 



LURED by the magnificence of the 
title— the suggestion of glistening 
crags and dazzling peaks, as well 
as by the oft-told legends of the mineral 
■wealth exhumed from the crags of Cum- 
berland, we prepared to spend a day at 
Diamond Hill. 

It is but a lortj- minufes ride from Pro^•i- 
dence by the trains of the N. Y. and N. 
E. road, yet the conti-ast of the scenery 
through which we sped could scarcely be 
greater in our little State ; from the flat, 
hot pine barrens of the Seekonk plains, 
desolate with heat and dreary with the 
never ending wail of the wind in the ranks 
of pine woods, to the towering hills, the 
abrupt ^a^'ines, the smguig brooks and 
daisied uplands of the wildest, loftiest cor- 
ner of our thrice-blessed Rhode Island. 
The gods have surely smUed on otu* fair 
little St>ate, which is not an island, as oiu' 
ignorant cotisms acmtss seas wiU insist. 
With the croAvn of enduring hills on her 
brow and the hea^^ng Atlantic laving her 
feet, she oifers endless variety to the 
growing host of summer pilgrims. To the 
lovers of the hills and forest the region of 
Diamond Hill is a consoling substitute for 
foregone mount;nn joys. Tlie hills hemme<l 
us in as we stepped from the train and 
looked about us : Beacm Pole, Copper 
Mine, Cumberland and the dominant crag 
in the foregrotmd we had journeyed to 
behold, but gleaming with no radiance, 
alas I save the glance of the sun on the 
leaves of Its forests. Away sped the train 
through the woods to the north and left 
us alone in the wilderness, a scant halt- 
dozen houses in sigiit, as we boxed the 
compass in a hasty circular glance. We 
would step in at the station and see about 
return trains. We stepped In, but lo I 



only an empty room well frescoed with 
pencil autographs, its only occupant a 
pile of wood m a comer, reminiscent of 
last winter or anticipating next. We 
learned on inqtiiry at the nearest home- 
stead hard by, tliat this was the station's 
chronic condition ; and, indeed, a station 
master inst.alled here, would soon be 
driven to suicide in a fit of ennui. But 
how, then, were we to get a train? for 
trains paused here only by flagging. We 
were to flag our own train, we were told. 
That is, on its approach, we were to stand 
well out on the platform in an expectant 
attitude, and the train would pause. On 
no account must we take seats in the 
station, as strangers sometimes did, leaving 
the tram to thunder by unwitting. Fore- 
warned was forearmed, and we dismissed 
care. Now, all about the hill if you 
please, madam ; and the pleasant-faced 
mother of the household gave us informa- 
tion, while a beautiful Irisli setter and 
a. pert imp of a bull terrier "showed off" 
aiound the yard, begged, crept, rolled 
over and retrieved in a state of high de- 
light and consciousness of our divided ap- 
probation. Up the winding hill to the 
left was the old granite cpiarry, now idle; 
to It belonged the queer little cluster of 
red cottages our train liad passed in the 
valley below. There was the little school 
house close by to the ea.st ; no, there was 
no church building, Arnold's Mills was 
the nearest place to go. And wouldn't 
that old abandoned black cottage across 
the way be a delightftil place to camp out? 
well, perhaps, but it was lull of ferti- 
lizer just now, and we hastUy dismissed 
the Idea. 

Where was the man we had heard of, 
who had a collection of minerals here? 



DIAMOND HILL. 



165 



He was close by aad we were directed 
there. There was also a beautiful build- 
ing, with a crystal Iroat. somewhere la 
the neighborhood; where was that? 
Well, that was the gatehouse ot the Paw- 
tucic )t Water Works, and we were, directed 
there likewise. With thanks and adleujs 
•we passed on, pausingi to admire a beauti- 
ful rockery of nature's own handiwork in 
the yard, in whose crannies grew ferns 
and Tines and iris in brown and yellow. 
Our way to tlie home of Charles Usher, 
the collector,* was through the woods, 
cool, shady, and filled with a thousand 
nameless floating odors of the wUd grow- 
ing things, and brown cart-paths down 
which we longed to wander, invited to 
still cooler and greener depths. 

It was Saturday morning and baking 
day, but the daughter of Mr. Fisher was 
hospitable and did the honors of the little 
white cottage as amiably as if we were 
the lirsc rather than the last of a long 
line of inciulsitive vlaltors. On a table 
in the sitting room glittered a collection 
of brilliant minerals that quite atoned for 
the ordinary green of the crag that 
loomed without. Not all were gathered 
from the hUl. but there were some magni- 
ficent specimens there. Mr. Fisher Is now 
an old man, and he has been an ai-dent 
entiiusiast in minerals lor seventy-five 
years, he says, since, when a little boy, 
he remembers his elder brother coming 
home with a huge piece of crystal un- 
earthed from tb.e crag. Among the 
treasures Diamond HUl has produced were 
splendid pieces of jasper, red, green, blue 
and yellow, most of those exhibited being 
polished to a rich lustre, chalcedony, 
porphyry, agate— and there was one 
banded piece here in glowing red and yel- 
low that we specially coveted, iron, and 
the most abundant quartz crystal which 
gives the region name. Masses of it 
were here crystallized in every form from 
opaque white masses like petrified cocoa- 
nut to the long, pendent, clear crystals 
that caught the sun's rays on their sharp 
angles like veritable diamonds. Pink, 
yellow and white, the various specimens 
showed, and the largest and hands jmest 



was one found by Mrs. Bartlett herself, 
Mr. Fisher's daughter, at the root of a 
tree. Thei'e was a great agate slab, so 
curiously marked In queer dark colors, 
black and brown blended with the red and 
yeUow, as to look like two oualnt figures 
in Japamese inlaid work. The granite 
quarry has turned out some prizes also, 
one of the loveliest things we saw being 
a long thin slab of hornblende crystal in 
quartz, a watery clear foundation stone 
with the faintest hint of translucence, 
and shot all through wth the tiny black 
arrows of hornblende, lapping and over- 
lapping. It resembled almost exactly the 
magnified dust of a black miller's wing 
which we prepared recently for a micro- 
scope slide. Mrs. Bartlett lamented the 
geological knowledge that died not long 
ago with her brother, Mr. Frank Fisher, 
but the lady herself is no superficial 
student of sto!nes, and talked of cleavage, 
fracture and crystallization with a fluency 
that shamed our hazy memories of school- 
day mineralogy. Mr. Fisher has attained 
a more than local reputation as a col- 
lector, and as our enthusiasm grew, the 
old gentleman and liis daughter brought 
forth from hidden nooks more and more 
beauties and curiosities lor our Inspection, 
exchanges, many of them,, from lapidaries 
and mineralogists. There were beautiful 
polished minerajls, cut gems, fossils, and 
all sorts of petrifactions, flexible sand- 
stone, ptiantom crystals, resuiTectlon plants 
and other curios innumerable. We 
passed a most enjoyable morning, and at 
length set forth in search of the far- 
famed gate-house, lying at the southern 
end of the new reservoir. For this lovely 
valley, the undulating, silent hUls lying 
greenly all about It with glimpses of more 
distant grays and blues between, no one 
would have dreamed the fair little lake 
was not expressly made, it nestles there 
so cosily and happUy, but four years ago 
it was only a leisurely winding meadow 
brook. One may see it VlOW, dropping 
down below the road on the other side 
of the gate-house and pursuing Its wiay 
through the rich marshy green bordered 
with iris and daisies and musical with the 



*(Mr. Fisher bas died amce the above sketch was wtlttea. 



166 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



tlnklliig music of bobolinks, apparently 
quite unconscious that Its upper course 
has, so to speak, 

"Suffered a sea-chanfte 

Into something rich and strange." 

It is the spreading reservoir of the 
Pa-wtucket Water Works Company, and In 
the centre of the long white-walled boule- 
vard that borders its southern shore rises 
that unique little gem of a gate-house that 
is the embodiment of what Diamond Hill 
can do in the way of minerals. BuUt of 
granite stone from the native quarry, in a 
massive but graceful design, across the 
middle front springs a ci*escent in darker 
polished granite, bearing its name and 
date of founding— 18S7. In horizontal 
panels on either hand, the vridth of the 
building, are set thickly tiles and blocks of 
the native treasures of the hlll-pollshed 
agate, glowing banded jasper, dark por- 
phyry and the blocks of yellow, pink and 
white quartz crystal that gleam with 
their own radiance. Down the tower 
front run perpendicular bands of orna- 
ment, Tough-hewn and projecting masses 
of dazzling crystal ; and when the sun 
shines on all this mass of crystals and 
Bparkles many-hued from their shining 
prisms, it Is indeed a sight worth coming 
far to see. 

Beyond and up the lake a little dis- 
tance, perched on a picturesque rough 
rock, vine and slirub decked, is a pa^ilion 
of polished wood, set on pUlars of more 
mineral wonders. Picnic parties come 
here, dine and dance and enjoy the pros- 
pect. It was erected also by the philan- 
thropists of the Water Worlis Co., and 
solely for the public good. As we gained 
this in\atlng eminence overlooldng the 
breezy lake, and opened our lunch boxes, 
we began to take exception to a state- 
ment old Mr. Fisher had made. He 
thought tliat a certain Prof. Jackson, I'l 
a report of the Franklin Society, had 
been much mistaken in recording apatite 
as a product of the hill. We now con- 
cluded that the worthy professor had 
been quite right and that only his spell- 
ing was at fault. 

Rested and refreshed, we presently 



strolled back up the lake shore to get 
the direction of the old Fisher homestead, 
the oldest house at the hill. We paused 
for a drink of water at our white cot- 
tage again— tills time observing the little 
pewee's nest over the front door, packed 
full of babies— and were rewarded by the 
most beautiful siglit In the form of a 
well we have ever beheld. It was lined 
thiclvly as a nest on the cold, damp stones 
with the beautiful, fern-like, tvrtnkling 
moss that never grows anywhere but in a 
well ; great ferns grew in clusters in every 
cranny, and the few vacant spaces were 
ailed with the queer growth called lung- 
wort—a composite of fern, moss and 
lichen. Above were bigger clusters still 
of ferns, and a columbine bent to peep 
at its scarlet trumpets reflected in the 
round black mirror below. It would have 
been sacrilege to supply this well with 
anything but old-fashioned sweep and oak- 
en bucket; we drank deep draughts with 
satisfaction. A great iron pot on four 
liitle legs stood among the flowers, itself 
painted red and converted Into a flower 
pot. It is an old, old heirloom, the great- 
great-grandmother of Mrs, Bartlett used 
to swing it from the Are, tilled with the 
boUed dinner. We saw other heirlooms, 
among them a still older pewter platter, 
hacked with the steel knives of many 
generations. By a delightful cross-cut 
through the woods, we departed for the 
Fisher homestead, bearing bouquets of 
pansles and roses, picked by the hospitable 
hand of our morning hostess. The great 
square, unpaiuted house, black with age, 
stands at the foot of a gently sloping 
hill, green and cool ■With woods and 
tumbled rocks, and with the looming crag 
of Diamond Hill frowning across the way. 
Its interior has aU Its old-time simplicity, 
low-ceiled rooms, with the huge frame- 
work guilelessly in sight overhead, and 
the broad fireplaces and cranes that are 
always a source of fascination and envy. 
This was the old home of Darius Fisher, 
the oldest place at the hill, and now oc- 
cupied by a son. Next door, buil't by the 
son, who is dead, is a neat white 
cottage, now standing with closed shut- 
ters in the midst of a view that ought 



DIAMOND HILL. 



167 



dally to gladden the hearts of appreciative 
occupants. 

In botli door-yards were small rockeries 
heaped -wltli glistening crystal fragments 
from the crag; indeed, if aU the speci- 
mens from Diamond Hill could be gath- 
ered from the various Cumberland door- 
yards they would make a fair-sized hill toy 
themselves. The hill has been pretty 
thoroughly ransacked now, and we were 
assured that it would be no use to climb 
and try our luck without picks and drills 
and other suitable implements. It was 
rather sad to come so far to see Diamond 
Hill, and yet leave Its pinnacle untrod- 
den, but consolation told us it was far 



more beautiful to stand at the foot and 
look up than to reverse the process. 

Therefore, we flagged our train success- 
fully and journeyed south; but when at 
Bight we closed our eyes it was not to 
see flashing before our vision like Words- 
worth's datfodUs the gleamlug stones, the 
peaceful lake or glancing brook, or the 
wUd green wood, or lofty crag— it was to 
recall what seemed now the loveliest mem- 
ory of aU— a broad waving field of blos- 
somed grass, soft, fawn-tinted and bil- 
lowy like the sea, its waves breaJdng 
at our very feet, and far beyond It a 
loomtQg pme forest standing mute and 
silent. 



QUINSNICKET. 



[Two nules west of Lonsdale. Worcester Railroad, 7 miles from Providence.] 



A SHORT article appearing not long 
ago in the Providence Journal 
kindled in us the desire to behold 
Qutnsnlcket, and on a sunny day late tu 
May we set forth, knowing only vaguely 
that the desired goal was said to 
be "somewhere near 'Lonsdale." In- 
quiry of the ollicials at the station 
produced only mirth and not informa- 
tion. Why Quinsuicket .should be any 
funnier than Shawoniet, Sockanosset or 
(3hepiwanoxct it is hard to say, but 
ticket agents will sell you tickets lor 
those places without a transient gleam of 
hilarity, whereas it seemed diflicult to 
compose their features sufficiently to say 
they hadn't any idea where Quinsnlcket 
was. We embarked, therefore, for Lons- 
dale on one of those trains whose termi- 
nus is one's own goal, and In which the 
conductor reverses all the seats but one's 
own and the one before, a station or two 
before the joui-ney's end, making one feel 
apologetic lor deliantly continuing to 
journey in an opposite direction, and won- 
der whether it is best to also reverse, or 
to offer an apology and remain seated. 
The conductor looked friendly, and we 
ventured to say as we proffered our 
tickets, " Can you tell us where Quin- 
snlcket Is ?" 

"Wh-whaf?" said he, recoiling. 

" Quinsnlcket." 

"What line is It onl" 

No line, we thought. It was an Indian 
place in the woods somewhere near the 
Butterfly factory, we believed. Oh, yes. 
Well, Lonsfdale was the nearest point to 
the Butterfly factory, and that was past 
old Lonsdale— well, our "best course was to 
cross the bridge at Lonsdale and Inquire 
at the first house at the left of Magoon, 



the boss farmer, who would doubtless tell 
us all about it. The Butterfly factory was 
a long way distant, though— two miles or 
more. Thanking him, we disembarked 
and turned bndgeward. 

There is no lovelier point along the 
Blackstone's shores than the bend of the 
river just here at Lonsdale. It curves 
away like a ^winding water road between 
the great bending elms, and verdant 
islands, little and big, dot Its stu"face ; be- 
yond stretch emerald green meadows away 
over to where the ancient Milage sleeps 
shrouded m green. Years ago the east 
side of the track was e(iually picturesque, 
and it is only of late years that the mag- 
nlBcent grove by the station was sacri- 
ficed to the needs of the last and hugest 
factory of Lonsdale's eight— the mammoth 
"Ann and Hope," or, in the common par- 
lance of the English laborers therein, the 
" Hannanope." Two hundred great win- 
dows front the track: one can see the 
glass tremble and vibrate to the jarring 
of the great engine pulse that moves the 
myriad wheels. It is not at all .a bad 
looking throng that pours out at Its gates 
noon and night, and there is in It a pleas- 
ing absence of over-young folk. The vil- 
lages of the old "Brown & Ives" firm, now 
called the Lonsdale Company, are models 
of their Idnd, and there is nothing In the 
appearance of the homeward hastening 
crowd to cause quotation of the " Cry of 
the Children,-' or recall the harrowing 
English tales of mill operatives. 

Notice the girls and women passing; it 
Is factory fashion to wear a white apron 
home from work ; and a connoisseur of 
hand-made edgings would find every pat- 
tern ivnder heavens adornrng their hems. 
These Immaculate stjtrched aprons are by 



QUINSNWKET. 



169 



10 means worn within, but limig rellg- 
ously up with outer wraps and exchanged 
or gingham or print, the garb of toil, 
i^mong the men there seems to be also an 
inwritten law of uniform In most mills— 
iveraUs and cotton shirts for the ordinary 
aborers, black raiment, vest, but no coat 
or section and second hands, complete 
)lack suit for overseers. This Is not an 
afallible rule, but it is a pretty general 
me. 

In the old days, when many haughty 
^ames who now own their carriages and 
equest their poor relatives not to men- 
ion that they ever worked in a factory— 
a the days when they acUnowledged the 
Ituple fact and were not ashamed— Lons- 
ale's mills were standing then, the old 
JTo. 1 and 2 over the river, and what 
Ifl'erent things they were from the giant 
Lnn and Hope and her modern Improve- 
nents ! Nice New England girls were at 
lie loom and the spinning frame then- 
leaned their looms in the morning, and 
n the afternoon came in fresh and dainty 
rith muslin gowns on I The web di awt rs, 
fho now with a steel hook toss out the 
nds of the white warp with skilled speed, 
hiee or four to the second, usel then in 
lace of the steel hook to employ a sma'l 
oy, who sat behind the warp and handed 
ut the ends to the operator with guile- 
;ss leisure, amid atlable conversation, 
nil life was not the feveilsh whirl It now 
5. Those were the days of the "Lowel 
>fl:ering," as remarkable a specimen of 
le people's literature as 'our continent 
as to offer. What sort of a "Lowtll Of- 
2ring" could be produced now, I wonder ? 
'or the snke of comparison it would be 
rorth while for the philanthropic man of 
Jtters to offer prizes for literary product? 
f the Lowell laborers. 

But we are lingering too long upon cur 
lidge in meditation. Let us pass on. 
Id Lonsdale, with her time-worn stone 
ouses, and long tree-shaded streets, with 
ncient wood cottages, is to my mind far 
lore attractive than new Lonsdale across 
le river, with her spick and span brick 
ottages, and imposing row of modern 
lansions for overseers, bookkeepers, su- 
erintendent and so on. A prettier little 
tiurch than the ivy-shrouded Episcopal 



chapel, amid its picturesque setting, with 
the soft red of its arches and tlie meUow 
light of its stained glass, Is scarcely to be 
found in Rhode Island, and as for "ttie 
first house on the left," the enviabls home 
of boss farmer Magoon, it is simply the 
most charming house in Lonsdale, with its 
quaint design, its gray shingled walls and 
ivied foundations. Magoon's men, when 
questioned of Qutnsnlcket, were happily 
not mirthful, but communioaftive. It was 
a plain way : Turn down the lull at the 
church, cross the bridge over Scott's pond 
and keep straight on to the factory. It 
was a pretty smart mile and a half, (they 
added. It was, indeed, the smartest mile 
and a half we ever travelled, and suc- 
ceeded In convincing us it was at least a 
mile more than it really was, though every 
step of the way was fair, over the 
graceful stone bildge, where the wooded 
hiUslde sloped so temptingly down to the 
lovely lake, where rowboats were lazUy 
rocWng, and where, not far below, is 
roaming the erratic and treacherous float- 
ing island, broken again from its moor- 
ings. 

Fairly out of Lonsdale proper, the 
most peaceful and pictui-esque rural 
homes dot the way. We wondered at 
them all. Homesteads of peace and 
plenty they loolced to be. Were they 
ancestral homes of Lonsdale's ancient 
settlers, or the more recent acquisition 
of retired and thrifty mill operatives, en- 
joying well-earned rest 1 Elower gar- 
dens, chicken yards, bee farms, all man- 
ner of delightful pastoral pursuits, greeted 
the eye. An air of free-and-easy com- 
fort was everywhere in the glad May air, 
and a wUd desire came over us to stay 
here always, and "visit round" and never 
go home any more. We rested by a 
typical "babbling brook" In the shade of 
a deserted saw miU by the roadside, and 
ate oranges to the ttnlding drip of the 
foamy, useless dam, regarded with breath- 
less Interest by a windowfull of bobbing 
heads in a cottage across the streaih, 
whence the murmuring hum of many bees 
came fitfully. At last at our left rose 
the Buttei-fly factory, an anachronous old 
building, its original walls of vari-colored 
quarried stone, a long extension built for 



170 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



tanning purposes of more recent "wood, 
and an extremely new and pert-looking 
brick chimney towering obtrusively 
aloft. We spied, or thought we did, the 
butterfly on the end wall, and sneered 
at the imagination that thought tlie re- 
semblance worth the distinctive name, but 
passing the front we looked up again, and 
lo I here was the butterfly Indeed in dark 
steel gray on the lighter walls, its mam- 
moth wings made from one great split 
stone, set turned apart in the wall, and 
therefore, of course, exactly correspond- 
ing. Ligbt seams through the dark gray 
add to the resemblance as velnlngs in 
tlie wings. 

Idle stands the old factory, as It has 
been at Intervals since the day of Its 
building; used for various purposes- 
shoddy making, tanning, cotton carding, 
and at present idle altogether, it has not 
bad a particularly useful career, but It 
looks staunch enougli to be put to any 
purpose. From Its situation, remote 
from anywhere in particular except Its 
own little laughing Moshassuck, it will be 
long before it becomes a hard worker. 

Right opposite is the old gray stone 
bouse, with its towering portion and lofty 
white pillars, built also of the same huge 
mottled stone from the Quinsnlcket quarry, 
and by the same owner, Stephen H. 
Smith, long since passed to Ms rest. More 
carefully cbosen is this stone front, and 
It Is a pleasure to look at the soft har- 
monies of Its red brown, its shaded grays 
and steel blues set skillfully together like 
a huge design In "crazy work," and 
softened by the tender green on the 
great trees on the lawn before it. Now 
the property of Daniel Header, its twenty 
great rooms ecbo but to the footsteps of 
the worthy couple who alone occupy it. 

Through winding paths, bridging the 
little Moshassuck again, the hostess kindly 
accompanied us through the forest mazes 
to Quinsnlcket. Its approach Is through 
a dense jungle, up the steep liUlside, 
along the banks of a fern-bordered ravine, 
down which a wee stream trickles like 
Its far away prototypes in similar glens 
among the mountains. Ma.gnlflcent box- 
wood trees flare densely white In their 
pale green setting across the pathway, 



and solemn white pines murmur perpetu- 
ally amid the silence. At last It In. 
reached— a natural amphitheatre, rock- 
walled and tree-sheltered, a vaUey In thi- 
wild hillside, and through It a small 
stream flowing, with a grove of huge pine.-i 
and hemlocks on its banks. This was 
the winter camp of the Narragansetts In 
far-off days, and opinion Is dl\ided as to 
whether Its name Quinsnlcket signifies 
"winter quarters," or, according to latest 
authority, "the place of ,many stone 
houses." 

The remains of stone houses are here 
plainly enough In the scattered bowlders 
and hewTi rocks; and until lately the 
stone wigwam, Jmc wii as " Queen Mary's," 
was sttU standing till overthrown by a 
stupid workman sent up for stone for a 
wall. A huge honey locust, planted by, 
the fallen stones years ago to furthe 
mark the spot, towers skyward, and ui 
high on the sheltering hillside towers the 
stupendous mass of pulpit rock, whenc 
King Philip harangued the warriors on 
the level below, among their stone house^ 
by the brook beneath the pines. 

Two caves are yet well defined in 
jutting masses of Pulpit Rock ; one ea 
of approach, the other now submerged} 
for the little jewel of a lake that flashe 
on one when the rock mass Is climbed, IS" 
growing yearly deeper, and Pulpit Rock's 
overhanging masses bathe deeper in Its 
laughing waters, shut in everywhere by 
the silent woods. Table Rock Is the 
highest crag of all, and everywhere one 
turns the ^iew seems lovelier. 

The goldfish, with which the ancient 
owner stocked the lake, sparkle her« stlU, 
and down in the Indian camp a few soli- 
tary garden flowers peep among the wild 
growth— vanishing rejlcs of a once bloom- 
ing garden In the forest. Old Stephen 
Smith was a passionate flower lover, and 
when he changed his abode from the 
stone house to the little cottage down by 
the stream, whose quaint grounds still 
bear traces of his adorning, folk came 
from far and near to behold the wilder- 
ness of bloom about It. 

Private property until now, wild Quin- 
snlcket Is about to pass by will from 
Ruth Smith, a niece of the old owner, in- 



QUINSNICKET. 171 

the hands of Lawyer Tillinghast of ry stole over me, as I threaded the yawn- 
is city, to be held for the public enjoy- lag ways of vast Pulpit Rock, and looked 
ent; a worthy gift, but the place can out with surprised delight on the bit of 
arcely be more public than it has been a shimmering lake, that in far-oit' school 
ade by picnic parties for years back, days I had climbed that vei-y way with a 

the ruins of many a camp fire, more party of schoolmates, that .someone had 

odem than King Philip's, wlU. attest. said, " There's goldfish in that pond," and 

id, Indeed, a faint and shadowy memo- that I had laughed the idea to scorn. 



FOSTER AND SCITUATE. 



[No railroad In Foster. Danielsonvllle stage runs through Scituate and Northern Foster.] 



A FARM Ln Foster. This Is a term 
■vvhicli in Khole Island has grown 
to be sj'jionymous with the acme 
of barrenness and storUity. Surarait, 
■where the train halts last before you get 
there, looks not so exalted as its name 
sounds, but it is on very high table land, 
nevertheless, and the map shows it to be 
the water-shed for all the small streams 
about. Near Summit, itself a region of 
stones, is a cuilous isolated collection of 
round bowldea-s, unlike any of the neigh- 
boring rocks, smooth and round and con- 
taining no signs of mica, as the surround- 
ing s*ones ,do. They cover a space of 
some 50 acres, and can hardly have been 
placed together by man; and, as a Cov- 
entry native indignantly and unanswer- 
ably demanded of us, "If the Almighty 
put 'em there, what in the name of com- 
mon sense did He do it for?"' 

South of thj9 present railroad i-uns the 
old "seven and ten line" of the former 
one, called so both in legal and common 
parlance still from th(; fact that It was 
owned by seventeen men, seven of whom 
owned on one side and ten oii the other. 

The present line divides the township 
as nearly in halves as may be, and from 
the car windows one looJcs easily north 
into Foster and south into West Green- 
■^\lch, between the wooded hills. Along 
with the train runs the Flat riv^r beside 
it, named from the fact that for seven 
miles here it has an average fall of but 
seven inches to the mile. Away down to 
the southeast, just over the boi-der, lies 
Mishnock Pond, about whose wild borders 
lives a scant population In as wild and 
primitive style as Rhode Island can 
show. 'ILere came once, when covered 
carriages were new to these regions, a 



young couple in one of these resplendent 
veiMcles, to seek the resident clergyman 
and be wed. The few natives hastily re- 
paired thither— not to attend the wedding, 
l>ut to s.ee the carriage. But, alas I during 
the ceremony a gale arose, that stylisU 
top was hurled otf and blown into Mish- 
nock Pond, and went sailing away In the 
darkness, and the new-married pair, after 
ha\ljig paid tlL9 minister in a bag of wliite 
beans, were obliged to drive home like or- 
dinary mortals. 

Two miles south of Greene Ues Cov- 
entry's chief source of wealtlx outside the 
wood lots and the farm lands— the :great 
cranberrj' bog of 400 acres, black and 
treacherous with "pot holes,'' shut In by 
dense jungles of deer laurel, and sur- 
rounded by wooded hills. When the q.ujik- 
ing bog freezes numberless cartloads of 
sand will be distributed all over its sur- 
face, to suit the per^'erted tastes of the 
little amphibious berry. There are lively 
times at the bog in the picldng season, 
when 200 pickers are employed, and some- 
times 2500 barrels of the red and white 
fruit go into the great cranberry house 
by the grass pond's edge. There thoy 
are silted down incMned , sieves, over 
which the big berries speed nimbly, while 
the little ones di'op through, to be sold as 
inferior quality. The bog is anything 
but safe, for even where the pot holes 
are not, the matted carpet of Adnes over- 
lies a spongj' substructure. The pickers, 
as they bend on their knees, gradually 
siniv deeper and deeper on their frail 
mats, and when they arise, it Is from a 
deep, moist hollow. Only last season a 
woman sank into a bog hole up to her 
neck and was rescued with difficulty. The 
bog is the bane of hunters, for all wild 



FOSTER AND SCITUATE. 



173 



jatttres know the place as a safe and 
,cikless liaven, and lin among the .dense 
jr laurel the dogs and the quarry dls- 
pear and are seen no more till it pleases 
jm to come forth.: 

A breed of great -wliite rahMts have 
iir homes about this hog, and there live 
peace and multiply. They are mottled 
1 reddish in warm weather, but by mid- 
ater become snowy white ; and, isome 
inter of the wild and uncanny ought 
catch, them at tlieir concourse in win- 
• moonlight. 

To Foster the road lies due north from 
eene, past Rice City and Coventry's 
ist interesting section. 
The little Buckshorn is crossed, named 
im the ancient discovery in the brook- 
1 of two pairs of buck's antlers and 
alls, Jlrmly interlocked in what was 



running thirough it, two huge elms tower- 
ing over the whole place, before the big 
square, southward lacing house known 
as the Hutchinson place, birthplace of 
Judge Matteson. The little wlhite church, 
here was known for years as the Christian 
Church, and here old. Elder Burlingame, 
the first licensed State temperance lec- 
turer, preached for 6-^ years. It was this 
church that the old slave attended who 
is remembered still In the walled field 
known as the "Jack lot." Jack was a 
slave kidnapped in the old fashion when 
the slave trade most flourished, brought 
direct to Warren from the Guinea coast 
"with a young gui companion. He was 
brought to Foster where he proved a faith- 
ful and willing servant, though he never 
mastered but two words of the English lan- 
guage, which were, singularly enough. 




MOltNT "^'EENON. 



3bably a deatih struggle. A depression 
the earth, a few huge crumbling stones, 
ise by the road, near the brook, show 
lere once stood the home of " Sheriff 
Pdan," a terror to tramps and e\\i 
ers, and Avielder of the town whip in 
3 stijl remembered days when a whip- 
ig post was a necessary part of the ju- 
iial armament. Another ruin stands 
•ther on, across the way, the old chim- 
y of what was the birthplace of the 
stress of the well-lmown Fiske home- 
!ad of Cumberland. A strange fact 
own of this road past Rice City is that 
e dwellers upon it comjnitted suicide— 
ck, Ely, Andrew Knox, Fairbanks and 
ittison, and that three of them are 
ried here in one small graveyard. 
Rice City, weo hamlet as it is, makes 
pretty picture as one comes upon it over 
3 rising road, the hard, level turnpike 



the two unmaiiageable ones for la for- 
eigner's tongue, January and February. 
Jack had a deeply religioiis nature, and 
managed to convey the idea of his wish 
to join the church, for he was an adept 
in his Invented sign language. Being ex- 
amined by the church worthies, be gave 
them to understand that his religious 
beliefs were similar to those of Richard 
Waterman, a leading citizen. This was 
satisfactory, and the old slave was ad- 
mitted, and thereafter took part in the 
conference meetings with great enjoy- 
ment, rising and repeating "January, 
February, January, February," number- 
less times with much solemnity and satis- 
faction. Jack worked hard, saved money, 
bought himself and his kidnapped com- 
panion, married her and ended his days 
in a bit of a liome in the old Jack lot. 
The road which one traverses now for 



174 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



a space before getting into Foster is llie 
old Norwich and Providence turnpike, the 
old residents along whicli can yet remem- 
ber when In Ueu of the humming tele- 
graph lines, dispatches were sent on the 
backs of slender boys, mounted on swift 
horses, -wtiile the old stages, lumbering 
along at a four-mile-an-hour gait, brought 
up the rear with detailed information. 
Here, a trUle west of Kice City, stood the 
famous old '• half-way house," the Mc- 
Gregor tavern, where a scant two years 
ago the most Interesting privafe collec- 
tion of old relics in the State went up In 
flames and smoke. Just east of Rice 
City, to the left as we journey Foster- 
ward, is the clilmney of another old 
tavern, the Carpenter tavern. It rises 
sharply and staunch on the rocisy rise 
close to the road, huge fireplace, bricic 



000 yards. Over across a marshy pasture, 
among the stones at the hill-loot, la a 
spring, known as Lafayette's ever since, 
in loiiS, the Marquis paused there to 
drink. 

Just at the Foster line stood the fa- 
mous " great chestnut" and a school 
house of the same name at its foot. In 
tiie hollow of this famed old trefi it la 
sail one could turn a fence rail around 
in a circle unhampered. The old tree has 
been dead fur years, and the school house, 
whose master once eluded the sherilf by 
skipping jauntily over the boundary line 
rinning through its precincts, is gone, 
too. Now one may take a road straight 
north to Foster Centre, more commonly 
" Hemlock," or northeast to Mt. Vernon, 
a quaint little hamlet, still kno^vn as the 
seat of the old Mt. Vernon Bank, estab- 




SITB OF THE OLD BANK, MT. VERNON. 



oven and rusty crane all open to the day- 
light, and a lightning rod swaying for- 
lornly above It. 

Two miles east is the decaying old 
Walker house, marking the spot where the 
old turnpike gate used to swing. The 
Walker family had this post for 80 years. 
The old house is still inhabited by an 
aged and solitary member of the departed 
famUy. The old man has relatives with 
"whom he might live, but prefers the 
solitude of his old home. Enormous 
quantities of " creeping Jenny" are found 
along here, and Alfred Cahoon, who lives 
near the line, is keeping the neighboring 
youth busy procuring and twining it into 
ropes for shipment during the holiday 
season. New York is the chief market, 
and Mr. Cahoon has already promised 30,- 



lished in 1823, when the mouldering 
homesteads were then the centre of a thriv- 
ing little village. Even now its dwellings 
rise superior, la a look of thrift and sub- 
stantial architecture, to most of Foster's 
stltlements. " Cannon Rock" is an old- 
time relic still pointed out with enjoy- 
ment, by old farmers— a huge rock hol- 
low without a crack, in whose egg-shaped 
concavity used to be fired the explosive 
gunpowder blasts that heralded any es- 
pe<'lal festlNlty of the hamlet, with a roar 
that reverberated round the country side. 
Mt. Vernon's old residents will tell you 
tales by the hour of the eccentric school 
master alluded to above. It was about 
1840 when the bank was abandoned, and 
the little village began the day of de- 
cadence. Still, on its breezy heights 



FOSTER AND SCITUATE. 



175 



tiere is more charm yet in its air of 
bandonment than in its most prosper- 
us days. 

There are no more substantial farm 
ouses In the town, with evidences ol 
jrmer prosperity, than two or three 
ocmy, rambling old places on Mt. Ver- 
on, where Mrs. Dorrance now holds sole 




MT. VEKNON I'OST OFFICE. 

way as Postmistress for the nelghbor- 
ood, and dispenses the mall from a wall 
apbcard. 

Between here and the north road lies 
tie old home of Dr. Thomas O. H. Car- 
enter. The ruins of the home are here, 
nd In a more modern cottage on the 
state a grandson lives. Judging from 
Id ledgers, the doctor's fees were modest 
nd his practice extensive. Most curious 
f all the old doctor's history is his grave- 
ard, all by itself, down on the edge of 

lonely swamp. The doctor married a 
econd wife, but when he came to die 
e expressed a desire that none hut his 
rst wife should be Tsuried near him. To 
ffect this wish he directed the conStruc- 
Lon of the unique enclosiire. It stands 
,mong the leafless hazels and alders 
lose to a lonely cross road, and is Uke 

huge stone box, without a cover. It Is 
omposed of four mammoth stone slabs, 
lanted on edge, each 10 feet long, four 



feet high, and some six inches ia thlcJs:- 
ness. These four enormous granite slabs 
are firmly riveted together by ponderous 
iron bolts, and will stand as long as the 
township does. Inside are the two grave- 
stones, side by side, each with a carved 
weeping wOlow at the top, one recording 
the doctor's death in 1839 at the age of 
62, the other of Henrietta, his wife, in 
1827, aged 20 years. Rank green moss 
grows thickly ia the moist soU of the en- 
closure, and a pine is starting up on the 
doctor's grave. 

Far away to the northwest is the Ai-ca- 
dlan Mount Hygeia, where the Hon. 
Theodore Foster, from whom the town- 
ship's name comes, came with a bosom 
friend to realize a youthful and romantic 
dream. A college classmate, afterward 
botanist in Brown, Solomon Drowne, 
joined hazards with him a quarter of a 
century after their young agreement was 
made, and here on these heights they 
built theii" ideal farin homes, improved the 
land, laid out a broad highway, christened 
the " Appian Way," and gave classic names 
to all the region. It was a quaint fancy, 
harmoniously executed, and a pretty bit of 







FOR HIMSFJ.F AND FIRST WIFEL 



w 



romance to come upon in tills depopu- 
lated silent country. In 1820 the small 
township numbered 3000 souls ; now it has 
a scant half that number, and the home- 
steads are widely scattered, many falling 
to decay. 

Southwest from Momit Hygeia, just on 
the Connecticut border, is a beautiful great 
grove, hard by where the well-lmown 
"Line store" once stood, but now burned 



176 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



down. Here I'verj' summer or early au- 
tumn has betn hi Id for long years ti e 
annual Foster picnic, wlien all the 1500 
inhabitants turn out to a man, and great 
Is tlie festivity. It is the occasion of the 
yeai". on Fenner Hill stands the Foster 
Aisyluni, "with some eight or ten inmates. 
A pleasant place it is, too ; a roomy, gray, 
rambling old farmhouse, once the Obadiaii 
Fenner homestead, with its barns and 
sheds sloping down the abrupt drop of 
the guai-led old orchard to the winding 
Moosup, with huge elms drooping over its 
gray roof, and the old Fenner graveyard 
across the way, encloswl in a massive, 
square stone wall, and tilled with tall, 
slender spruces. 

Pleasure driving in Foster is not the 
chief amusement. We met one team and 
overtook one in our 20-niile circuit, and 
encounlered one palriarilial i)edestrian, 
trudging down a wood-bordered cross-road. 
Howard Hill was the home of the seven 
Howard brothers, the tales of whose stat- 
ui'e and prowess recall the " fierce Doones 
t)f fixmoor." Ail the way from six feet to 
seven were their various heights said to 
be, corrol)oratetl by the length of the 
gi-aves in the walled enclosm-e out in a 
stony and swampy field. Of one of these 
Howards, Richai-d, it is related that he 
set out one morning to take the sUige to 
Pro\^dence, but walked on tUl it should 
overtake him. He had got down into 
Scituate when it came along, and thinking 
as he had got so far on foot he might as 
well continue, he walked on" into Provi- 
dence, arriving some 15 minutes behind 
the stage. 

The lew old-fasliioned farms we passed 
seemed in their day to have been more 
opulent and prosperous than those of 
southern Coventry and West Greenwich ; 
there the little homes were sprinkled more 
tliicldy, but were less pretentious in char- 
acter. The old Hopkins place was among 
the finest Ave saw in Foster, "svith a most 
beautiful distant \ievT from its level 
heights. The Hopklnses, the Howards 
and the Aylesworths were the earliest set- 
tlers in the township, and 'feeveral of their 
descendants are to be found there still. 

More hills, more woods, always more 



stones, and by and by the neat little set 
tlement of Foster Centre in the Heraloc 
district dawns on us like a positive joyj| 
NO refresliing is the conirasib of modea-ii and 
prosperous humanity to the moulderlnj 
look of antiquity that lies even over th.^ 
face of Nature herself In southern Foster 
So gray and old were all her unliew 
forests, so rock-strewn the hoary pa 



P>- 






A^u 




tures that it was sometimes ditHcult 
tell where stone wall left off and pastur^ 
began. The old graveyards were mos 
numerous and most populous of all thd 
settlements ; but among their varying 
mortuary lore there was nothing tha 
proclaimed the tide of poesy at so lOTi 
an ebb as the doggerel rhymes we ha 
spied back in the Mt. Vernon burying 
ground. 

Candis 

Wife of W 

Amaziah Blackmar, 
Died Fel). 13, 1816. 
Aged 65 years. 

Candis Blackmar Is my name, 

America is my nation, 
Foster is my native place, 

And Christ is my salvation. 

When T am dead and gone. 
And all my bones are rotten, 

Jesus Christ will think of me. 
When I am quite forgotten. 

Northern Foster is seen most agreeablj 
by means of the old stage-coach rout 
tliat passes througli it and Scituate ; it 
a most agreeable all day's trip, in propl^ 
tious weatlier. 

In these days of rapid transit, it Is 



FOSTJSB AND SCITUATE. 



177 



■are experieace to travel over the same 
oute as did one's grandparents, by the 
ame mode of conveyance, and with the 
lelf-same driver. All these may one do 
£ he tespealvs passage to Danielsonville 
,t the old city stage office, lor the quaint, 
umhering coaches are running yet, Avith 
;ood patronage, and. the veteran of the 
oad, John W. Richards, reigns oai the 
)0x seat stUl, and will tell you, with a 
ouch of pardonahle pride, that he came 
•n in the Administration of Andrew Jact:- 
lOn, 57 years ago. All along the city 
treets, as the old coach rattles along, 
)icking up passengers, it Is stared after 
Yith a good degree of interest by passmg 
itizens outside its dally route, and there 



ston elm" by the highway, towering and 
stately, but It Is nothmg to the giant that 
died here of old age a few years since, of 
national repute, and wiiicli Holmes, the 
tree-lover, came searching over this very 
route long years ago. Our fallen monarch 
he pronounces " a grand old elm for size 
of trunk, spread of limbs, and muscular 
developmen1>-one of the first, perliaps the 
first, of the first class of New England 
elms." Of those who saw It la Its green 
cloud of glory, Ms description will almost 
make the heart leap as did his in the 
finding. 

"As T rode along the pleasant way, watching 
eagerly for the object of my journey, the round- 
ed tops of the elms rose from time to tune at 




DAMELSONVnXtB STAGE. 



ire many who gaze alter It with a retro- 
spective fondness, and a memory of the 
lays when Smlthfleld Seminary was la its 
glory, and the ]0Uy stage ride out was 
the event of the term. 

Inside the coach the old-time decorations 
prevail yet, the age-blacl<ened leather, 
the faded velvet upholstery, the con- 
fronting seats with the always avoided 
' middle," and the swaying straps that 
are great comfort on the hardest roads. 
It is 10 a. m. when the stage leaves the 
iown-town office, anywhere from 10 :30 to 
11 when it makes its first halt at Olney- 
\aLle square, and rattles on, its four horses 
fresh and mildly hilarious now, toward 
the Elm House and the Johnston suburbs 
beyond. There is still a beautiful "John- 

12 



the roadside. Wherever one looked taller and 
fuller than the rest, I asked myself: 'Is this 
it?' But as I drew nearer they grew smaller, 
or it proved, perhaps, that two standmg in a 
Ime had looked like one, and so deceired 
me. At last, all at once, when I was not think- 
ing of it— I declare to you it makes my flesh 
creep when I think of it now — all at once I 
saw a grea.t green cloud swelling in the horizon, 
so vast, so symmetrical, of such Olympian ma- 
jesty and imperial supremacy among the lesser 
forest-growths, that my heart stopped short, then 
jumped at my ribs as a hunter springs at a 
five-barred gate, and X felt all through me, with- 
out need of uttering the words: 'This Is It!' " 

Over beyond, as the land grows higher 
and the June air streeter, lies to the 
left beside a small school house, a bit 
of a graveyard, conspicuous m which is 



178 



PLEASANT PLACES IN liEODE ISLAND. 



llie King monumout In memory of the 
Governor contemporary with the Dorr 
War. Far away, too, Acote's Hill, aii- 
otlier memory, looks across serenely from 
blue distance on the ctulet graveyard. 
Up in a corner Is the tomb, now guarded 
by iron doors, whose copper ones were a 
lew years ago so mysteriously stolen and 
disposed of, that lio trace has ever yet 
been obtained of them. Where the traclv's 
ceased at the roadside the clue ceased 
too. Neutaconkanut's long green rampart 
dwindles and ceases at the left, with 
but small likeness to its imposing height 
at the Plainfield car terminus, and, on 
the other hand, away beyond the mass of 




JOHN W. RICHARDS, THE VETERAN 
DEIVBB. 

swaying forest tree tops lies the famous 
Snake Den, with Its tumble of rocks and 
slippery ledges, and the cascade that most 
observers pronounce a perfect miniature 
of Niagara. From the Snake Den on, the 
road lies through a tract once dreaded 
of solitary travellers. Waterman's Woods, 
■where more than one vehicle has been 
held up and despoiled. It is as lonely 
and untenanted now as In the days when 
highway robbery flourLshed, but most of 
the heavy forest growth Is cut down, and 
the remaining woods are a younger gen- 
eration of birch and chestnut. 



Stump reservoir sparkles cheerily be- 
yond it presently, and at Us far end 
aeross the boggy pastures, is " The little 
dam school house," title innocent enough 
in itself, but provocative of severe dis- 
pleasure on the part of some of the 
stage occupants when Inquired for with 
equal Innocence by the prospective school 
ma'am. 

It is high noon whe.n tlie stately ever- 
green grove and lofty wliite-pillared walls, 
rising stiU higher behind the woods, show 
where deserted Lapham stands silent, 
but queenly yet, eyen In her solitude. 
The pleasant pastures and stone-strewod 
old orchards about North Scituate are 
passed, the quaint little Quaker me.eting 
house by the roadside whose scattered 
worshiijpers hold now but yearly ser\ice, 
and then to preserve their title ; Moswan- 
sicut Lake, sUent and lovely among the 
enshrouding woods, the old-time delight 
of hundreds of young men and maidens 
when the boarding school across the fields 
was a fact instead of a memory. In a 
clearing of the grove by the water is now 
tlie pleasant camp-ground of the family 
of Henry T. Root, wlio have for some 
time inade this pleasant spot their sum- 
mer rendezvous. On and into the quiet 
httle "soUage, past one of the oldest of 
old homesteads, the Bowen house with 
its brown walls and two huge chimneys, 
the village academy, the long tree-bor- 
deped West avenue, up wliich the stage 
used to merrily lumber with its load of 
anticipative pupUs. Two present stagers, 
with memories yet warm, grow retrospec- 
tive and exchange many " Do you remem- 
bers'?" concerning the oak-tree seat, the 
Friday night socials in the hall, the 
cupolas scribbled full of pencU names 
and sentiments, the " connecting blocks" 
with the jingling old pianos still in the 
music rooms, and the pranlcs of departed 
pupUs. Many people are of opinion that 
with suitable facilities lor travel, Lap- 
ham Institute might yet come again to 
the fore In its old capacity. Thefe is no 
more peaceful and charming spot in our 
State for an Institute of learning; but at 
present It is used occasionally by the 
Masons as an assembly hall, and occupleA 



FOSTER AND 8 C ITU ATE. 



179 



by a family or two to prevent the decay 
■wMch solitude hastens. The seminary 
days made the life of 'the village ; since 
then the, gualnt little Four Corners has 
grown sleepier and ctuieter, and the grassy 
roads seem almost deserted. There is a 
store,, a Post Office, where a Quakeress 
reigned for many long years, a tavern, the 
Phillips stand, where the stage halts for a 
moment, exchanges mail hags .ilso at the 
little office, and jolts on again through 




CeOPMIOT POST OFFICE, 
the shaded main street of the village 
svith its well-kept, tree-hordered home- 
steads, where all through the warm sum- 
mer afternoons the main diversion is, as 
t has heen for the last 25 years, playing 
;ro(iuet. 

Just heyond North Scituate the stages 
aaeet ; the drlveirs collect each their fares 
m presence of the other, to avoid hlunder- 
ing, the news of the day is exchanged 
ind the various commissions, back starts 
the coach toward the city, and the new 
iriver mounts and starts us on lor Daniel- 
sonville. Although Mr. Stone is much 
S^ounger than his uncle, Mr. Richards, 
le, too, may be classed as a veteran of 
the road, for he has driven for 25 years, 
and, unlike most old stagers, is still 
a.s alive to the beauties of the road as Ms 
most enthusiastic passenger. On the brow 
jf Chopmist, Scituate's western and high- 
est hill, he halts the stage and calls at- 
tention to the wide and spreading view, 
ending southward with a faint, pale 
glimpse of blue ocean, down Narragan- 
3ett Pier way, and showing, ahead of 
lis the wild, rolling and wooded wUder- 
oess of Foster's deserted township. We 
liave passed the old Aiigell tavern stand, 
said to have been honored— as what old- 
time hostelry is not— with fleeting visits 
of Washington and Lafayette. Just be- 



hlad us lies the old Stephen Hopkins 
place, or more modern title, the West 
homestead, where all manner of scape- 
grace tales are told of a certain Archi- 
bald West, descendant of the Governor ; 
among others, Ms fondness for firing at 
a mark and taking on one occasion the 
spreading border of Ms wile's Quaker cap 
lor his target. Naturally objecting, the 
lady fled, shrieking up through the 
house, emerging in her alarm through 
the roof scuttle and running around the 
square huge chimney that rises solidly yet 
to adorn the tale — a feat which the gazer 
thinks the much-tried wife would have 
hesitated to attempt in her calmer 
inoments en the sharply sloping roof. 
The house is full of reUcs of olden time, 
and Just beyond lies the family burying 
ground, with names yet older than the 
{)resent house, for the original Stephen 
Hopkins he use crumbled to its fall on this 
same site. 

Chopmist's long MU is climbed, the 
western descent begins. Why Chopmist? 
And the di'iver thinks because tMs hiU 
tidge is a literal "chopmist." He has 
noticed, he says, hundreds of times, the 
morning fog rolling and tossing heavily 
down the valleys on either hand, while 
the hUl Mghway lies in clear air, and 
perhaps there is no one Uvtng to confute 
tills theory. Chopmist has a Post Oifice, 




GO^. WEST HOMESTEAD, 
a neat little wMte cottage on the sum- 
mit, with its sign In an old lUao buSih, 
and the Postmistress leaves her croquet 
game in the shady orchard to run hastUy 
la and come out with the leather bag. 
It is surprising to see the amount of 
maU that comes land goes along these 
lonely roads— papers and magazines, that 
is. The stage sometimes delivers lour 



180 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



sacks of printod niittlor at one trip. Every- 
body is on the lookout for tbe stixge and 
the mall bap, and a temporaiy excitement 
attends the "whole ronte. Parcels and 
packages fly through the air at the scat- 
tered bomes; the natives run out with 
letters in their hands, and the family 
dogs come trotting ■with joyously "wag- 
ging tails to get theli- newspapers. "Jack." 
a tawny mastill, is one of the most faith- 
ful customers, and will manage to spring 
even up to the high box seat for his 
bundle in case the driver forgets or neg- 
lects him. 

It is easy to tell wliere Scitiiate ceases 
tind Foster begins ; bad roads and stony 
i)astures mark the change at once, though 
the northern part of the township, through 
wliich the stage line runs, is nothing to 
the rocky wilderness farther south in the 
region of Hemlock. The houses gi-ow 
fewer, the woods denser. Now and then 
the driver points out the old homestead 
of man or woman well Imown to his 
ProA^dence passengers, for many of its 
notable citizens are of Foster origin. 
Queer door-yard decorations strik<^ the eye 
before tlie isolated farms and cottages, 
a favorite being a sewing machine body 
and a box top on wMch gay flowers and 
^^nes disport. One lady of an Inventive 
turn of mind stands among a parterre of 
flower-bedecked furniture, where the 
hastening stage party catch a fleeting 
glimpse of bedposts, chairs and an old 
lounge rejoicing beneath a wealth of 
bloom. Every little house has its flour- 
ishing garden patch— a matter almost of 
necessity at this distance from market, 
and scarecrows are more frequent than 
their original models. 

At South Foster Post OlHce — ^locally 
Icnown as Hopldns Mills— there is a longer 
halt. Horses and stage, too, are changed, 
and a lighter wagon goes the last half of 
the trip. In the barn are all the varieties 
of till' cdacli family, even file huge sleiuhs 
for winter use — arks like the primitive 
coaches themselves, only on runners. The 
three styles of stage coach for summer 
travel are, first, tlie huge, curve-bottomed 
vehicle called distinctively the "coach," 
and hung on high jacks ; second, a similar 
but lighter vehicle, straight of bottom and 



hung o7i thoroiighbraoe leiillier, called 
the "stiige wagon," and tliird, the pas- 
senger wagon, In which the way now lies 
to DanlelsonviUe, the ordinary modern 
stage seen elsewhere, merely a roomy 
covered exi^ress wagon. Ancient as the 
(juaint old-stylo coaches are, It is predict- 
ed that they will hold their ground for 
many years yet over routes where no rail- 
way runs, as there is yet to be inventetl 
any vehicle combining piussenger space 
and comfort with baggage and express 
facilities so well as doi's the swaying, non- 
capsizable old coach, one of the few re- 
maining last ceutm-y vehicles. There is 
an old, old piece of sheet music, coarse of 
print and of obsolete tyije, entitled " Trip 
to Pawtucket," whose title-page Is adorned 
witli a tac-simile of this oldest coach. 

Long ago, when the stock comiianies 
owned the road, the coaches were given 
names. The lather of the present driver 
drove the " General Washington" ; there 
was an " Excel, " also, and the winter 
coaches went by number. St;ige coaches 
are rather costly tilings at first hand, a 
first quality costing iJ>SOO, thougli there 
is naturally little demand for a second- 
hand one, and the traveller sees them 
mouldering away their latter days in de- 
serted, weed-grown fields. As a whole, 
stage traffic keeps up Its numbers, though 
on tills road the abandoning of the semi* 
nary, of coui'se, took oil half its patron- 
age, and the fact that the large coach 
no longer goes the whole trip debars some 
picnic parties from trips just for the nov- 
elty of tlie thing. StUl, there is even 
now an average of thirty or more passen- 
gers a week, and expi*essing brings in an 
equal sum. During warm weather excur- 
sionists swell the number, and small pic- 
nic parties taJvC trips to some of tlie 
many beautiful groves and streams of 
Foster, and are picked up on the return 
three hours or so later. Tliere is no more 
accommodating public conveyance in the 
State. Does a passenger desire a temptr 
ing flower by the wayside, a snap-shot at 
picturesque ruin, a A'isit to an old bury- 
ing ground, there is always time and to 
spare ; and if the stage is late Into Daniel- 
sonvllle at night nobody cares. 



FOSTER AND SCITUATE. 



181 



The one important point is, impera- 
tively, that the stage trip must be made, 
whether slowly or speedily. As a mail 
carrier, it must stop for no weather. The 
wildest snow storms and the biggest drifts 
— :and Foster snow drifts are something 
appalling-— do not Ifeep the faithful coach 
at home. The rule of tlie road is im- 
perative, " Keep going." Through snow 
and gale, with helpersi along the populated 
roadway, without ia the loneliest bits, 
the driver gets out and shovels and treads 
I way tlirough the deepest blockades, and 
the horses, too, imbued, apparently, 
through long service, with a sense of their 
responsibility, struggle heroically, and it 
5 a hard day indeed when the old coach 
ioes not at last pull through. When this 
:arely happensi there are cordial shelters 
mywhere on the route, the driver merely 
)ending his efforts to finding a sufficient 
)ne for the horses'. 

North roster, or Foster Post Office 
roper, is the next stop, and it is claimed 
o toe the oldest post office in the State, 
t looks it, surely, and the same family 
Lave had it in charge for more than a 
laU* century. It is a long, low, gray 
)uilding, looking most like a blacksmith 
hop, and hollows and holes are worn 
iirough the floor, the threshold and 
loor steps. The family all live within, 
hough some years ago the Postmaster 
luilt next door the most pretentious house 
f the place ; but when completed the 
^eart of his wife failed her, land they 
tuck to the old home. 

The mail exchanged, and the oldest In- 
abitants gratified with a long and guUe- 
3SS survey of the coach and passengers, 
'oster Post Office is left behind and the 
scending road leads to Mount Hygeia, 
be seat of an idyl of Rhode Island quite 
j'orthy a pastoral poem. AU tlie hills 
ave names ; there was Dolly Coles, way 
ack in Scituate, and here is School House, 
-Ith its namesake half way up its long 
limb. The seats of learning are but 
parsely patronized now in Foster ; the 
lount Hygeia school has seven members 
nrolled for the cui-rent year, with an 
verage attendance of three. 

Mount Hygeia itself was named by the 
>amon and Pytliias who founded the 



charming home here, now almost a century 
ago. It is seldom that two men of mature 
years carry out the enthusiastic dreams 
of early college days, but these two did— 
Dr. Solomon Drown and the Hon. Theot 
dore Foster, for whom the township was 
named. With their taste for nature and 
pastoral pursuits still unraarred by social 
and professional success, they jointly es- 
tablished in this remote, wild land breezy 
nook the farm and home which they gave 
its present name ; they broadened the 
then narrow and neglected road, renamed 
it the Appian Way, established CLuauit 
nooks about the dreamy old home — ^VirgU's 
Retreat and othei'S— planted the old-fash- 
ioned garden whose traces are yet linger- 
ing, set out the thorn locusts and tulip 
trees that make the droppiag, shady lane 
leading down to the wood-enclosed house 
from the stage road even now a path of 
delight, and had all things In common. 




moUjNT hygeia. 

The end of this charming departed pas- 
toral comes upon one suddenly, on the 
mossy gray headstone among the silent 
graves in the fragrant old orchard just 
beyond : 

SOLOMON DROWN, M. D. 
Was bora iu Pi'ovldence hi 1753, graduated 
In Rhode Island College '73; studied medicine 
In Pi'ovidfiuce and Philadelphia; commenced 
practice in his native place; served as surgeon 
in the army of the Revolution; visited the hos- 
pitals and medical schools of Europe, '85; was 
present at the first settlement of Marietta, '88; 
moved to Pennsylvania, '92; returned to New 
England 1801; settled in this place; was ap- 



182 



PLEASANT PLACES IN BIIODE ISLAND. 



DOlnted Pi'ofc'ssor of Botany and ^raterla Medlca 
In B^o^\•n University, and continued the practice 
of medicine till his death, which occurred Feb. 
B. 1S3-1, lu his Slst year. 

The Old farmhouse Is square, wlilte and 
hospitable looMng, -with old-1'ashioned fan 
light, but an illustration gives little Idea 
of Its romantic situation, or the many 
quaint and delightful nooks about it, and 
the old garden, with Its ancient box bor- 
ders. Dm-ing a part of the year it Is oc- 
cupied by the toniily of Thomas L. Drown 
of ProAidence, a descendant of the orig- 
inal ovmer. Many public improvements 
•were made by the first owner, notably In 
the highways^, which the present popula- 
tion might emulate to advantage. 

It Is getting towards suns.'t when the 
Rhode Island line is crossed, and pros- 
pects brighten, for the roads grow speed- 
ily and perceptibly smoother. The way 
Is enlivened by a home where dwell the 
happy parents of thirty-six children, most 
of them disporting In the door yard as we 
pass ; the little Whetstone brook dips down. 
Into a sheltered valley ; and the scenetry 
on either hand grows lovely. We ate 
loyal to our native State, but it certainly 



is a refreshing change as we penetrate far- 
ther Into Connecticut. Factortes line the 
\Vhetst>ne Valley, tlie brook empties into 
the i<lve-Mlle rlv»r, that In turn flows 
into the QJutnebaug, and on the Quine- 
baug Is our termlnu>. The sun sinks be- 
hind the distant dreamy hills, the lake- 
lets by the way and the foamy mUl 
stream that follows the roadway glow In 
the gold and cilnison light; Kast Kiillngly, 
the last Post OfRce, is reached and passed, 
and at last a broad suburljan avenue lined 
with pleasant residences, a public park, 
nidnuinents and fountains tell us we are 
aiproachii'g at last a real town. Before 
we get fairly iii'to Danlelsonville it has 
grown really dark; the stage halts once 
more at tlie Post Office and diaws up at 
last with a flourish before the Attawaugan 
House. We descend with pride from our 
aU day's journey. To be sure, we have 
not gotten over the four hundred miles 
modern Imirovemenis would have made 
in that time, but we are travelling after 
last century models, and feel that to have 
come all the way through fi-om Provi- 
dence to DanlelsonvUle without pausing 
is to have accomplished a most creditable 
feat. 



LINCOLN AND NORTH SMITHFIELD. 



[Worcester Division N. T., N. H. and H. skirts Lincoln's eastern boundary. North Smithfleld's 
itations are on Springfield Branch of N. Y. and N. E. Primrose Station, 15 miles from Providence. 
?are, 50 cents.] 



ruST to the westward of AlMon, -wtiere 
I tlie Blackstone, recovering from its 
fall over tlie foamy dam, glides loe- 
iween Mgh ledges and fringing woods, a 
•oad leads past tlie plush, factory and by 
b pleasant old homestead disitlngulshed 
)y haAring had the scene of two hooks 
aid in its g'enerous domains. WTiile 
leither has attained more than a local 
jeiebrlty, there are few old families 
ibout Uncoln and Cumberland who have 
lot read " Three Holes in the Chimney, " 
)r " Rhoda Thornton." In the pleasant 
)ld homestead now known as the 
Meader place lived, in the early years of 
Shis centm-y, a certain Deborah Hill, of 
svhom many conflicting traditions are 
low rite. She once took ia, partly out 
Df charity, partly - because she needed 
much help on her extensive and flourish- 
farm, I two orphaned children, Betsey 
A.nn Ray and her brother George. She 
Ls said by many to have treated these 
children with extreme cruelty, while the 
Ifiscendants of her friends strenuously 
aeny it. At aU events, when she after- 
ward adopted another chUd, Rhoda 
Crocker, and when a Pawtucket lady, 
Mrs. Rratt, published the book "Rhoda 
Xhornton," which was an account of this 
child's life which represented Deborah 
am in a too favorable light, Betsey Ann 
Ray prepared her own volume, " Three 
Holes in the ■ Chimney ; or, a Scattered 
Family," to enlighten a deluded world. 
Now an elderly woman, married and liv- 
ing outside the State, she is represented 
as an extremely garrulous person who 
carries constantly with her a portfolio of 
crude drawings which represent the va- 
rious scenes of her childhood's wrongs 



and who seizes every opportunity for 
once more relating the mora harrowing 
portions of her youthful tragedy. The 
book itself is crudely written, garrulona 
and digressive, thougti related calmly 
and with no apparent vindictiveness. 
Hetre Is her naive portrait of her tyrant : 

"Her name was Deborah CHU. Her father 
was a carpenter, and Samuel Gill was called 
one of the best of men. He gave his children, 
15 in number, a good education, and some of 
them trades. He lived on a farm one mile 
northwest of Albion, In an old house which was 
called the old 'Muzzy House.' It stood down 
in a lot called 'the meadow,' near the stage 
road that leads from Woonsocket to Providence, 
on the Smithfleld side of the river. This wo- 
man had so many peculiarities that her father 
used to say he believed 'she was the only child 
he had which was scarcely worth falsing.' She 
grew all the same to be a strong, muscular wo- 
man, although not at all coarse, and In her 
general appearance and conversation could act 
the American ladj'. She was five feet six 
Inches tall, with upright figure, and was per- 
fectly well. She had straight, black hair, 
sprinkled with gray, low forehead, gray eyes 
and a nose quite large at the end; thin, com- 
pressed lips, straight wrinkles from nose to 
mouth, long teeth, well filled with gold; these 
she took great care of, always after eating tak- 
ing a string and drawing it between them. 
When the Friends School was first opened in 
Providence she gave, as an opening offering, 
her services for three months as a teacher, hop- 
ing she might thus help the school and also 
secure a good situation; but as a parting salute 
for her numerous chastisements she had inflicted 
upon the scholars, as she stood upon one of the 
steps of a bui.lding belonging to this institution, 
a pail of water, not over clean, was unceremoni- 
ously turned over her, thus ruining a cloak and 
a new silk bouuet." 



184 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



^Yllll equal prolixity of detail she de- 
scribee the honieetetid Avhea^e tlie scenes 
of these two narratives are laid, on the 
westward leading road I'rom ManviUc, a 
little distance beyond Hahdy's plush mUl, 
and whicJi, thougli now modernized and 
altered, has many of the old landmarlfs 
distinguishable, and is one of the most 
attractive and hospitable-looldng old 
homesteads on the lengtli of the road. 




di':boraii hell homestead. 

The "three holes in the chunney," 
■which, without apparent reason, are thus 
exalted to the dignity of a title, are 
brleHy mentioned thus in various places. 
'• In tlie centre of the cellar is the chim- 
ney; the ciiimney is a smaU sheet iron 
door ; if yqu push this up and loolv in 
you wUl see it is for ashes, thus secure 
from fire." *• The chambers were the 
same as the rooms down stairs, only in 
the room over Deborali's sleeping room, 
behind a large chest in which bedding 
was kept, there was another little door. 
This opened into a great chasm, it seemed 
to be, over the oven in the sitting room." 
Again, " Half way up the front stairs at 
the left was a little door opening into 
a place in the great chimney, prepared 
for smoking hams, and under the stairs 
a dark closet." 

Of her confinements In this first abode 
of darlcness she writes at length with 
realistic fervor, and of Miss Deborah's 
shaking coat sleeves at her from without 
and growling that she was "old black 
lleniy come to fetch her," without, how- 
ever, greatly terrifying further the lonely 



chUd, who preferred anything to the cold, 
darlvness and ashes within. She was also 
immured in tlie ham-smoking hole on the 
stairway, among the charred corn, cobs, 
but the third hole seems to have failed 
to immortalize itself, except as counting 
one. 'Outside this narrative, however, 
the hole is liLstoric. In our rambles about , 
the old house, the little chimney door 
was opened, and it was shown us a3| 
having been the hiding place for all the 
Lime Kock Bank's money and papers du 
ing tiie Dorr war; out of its iurisdictlouj 
as the house then was, It certainly seemed] 
a safe and improbable place of search,) 
with the little door concealed and its ex- 
istence unsuspected. 

In its early days the house must have! 
been embowered in more blooming shrub-j 
licry than now, judging by what the hls-l 
torian says. Many of its features arej 
still unchanged ; the old well still drawsj 
with a stubborn resistance that calls fori 
the strong arms of a man; down in the! 
cellar beside the chimney hole is cut the! 
date 1787 in the stone, but whether itj 
represents the house's age no one can say^ 
In the tent-shaped stairway hole the four-J 
pegged posts still rise for ham smoldngj 
with the pan of cliaii-ed corn cobs on thej 
lloor beneath. Out in the broad and tree 
sliaded yard is the tool house with the 
cheese room in the rear, wliere the little 
Ann once shut in the tramp of q\\\ intent.l 
The rose still gi'ows beneath JMisal 
Deborah's window, where that ancient 
maiden stealthily cra.wled in to make her- 
self festive for her older lover, Capta 
.links, who eventually became her hus- 
band 

The tale, with all Its crudity and thej 
doubt tliat hangs about its sincerity, has 
yet something in it that haunts one, as a^ 
simple, old-fashioned record of Ne'w Eng- 
Innd life; and if a tenth part of Its I 
chronicled cruelties be true, Miss Deborah) 
must have been indeed one of those un-j 
lovable females who have never been 
young. 

Here Is one instance : " 'It would 
serve thee right,' Said Deborah, after her 
niece had gone, 'not to give thee any din- 
ner, but here are some victuals on 
Charles's plate that he has left to be 



LINCOLN AND NOETH SMITHFIELB. 



185 



■wasted. Thee go and bring tlie swill 
pail in tliat stands under the wash bench.' 
Ann brought the pail covered with swill, 
sour and filthy. Deborah put the dinner 
for Ann In the pail and told her to carry 
it out and set it on one end of the sink 
drain, and to get down and eat it with 
her fingers. She was so sore and lame 
from her whipping she could not get 
down on her knees as she was told, so 
Deborah told her to stand in the drain 
itself, and then she could just reach it 
out of the pail, 

'• 'None of thy sniffling ; thee must eat 
it.' 'I can't,' said Ann ; 'I feel sick to 
my stomach.' But she had got it to eat, 
so she shut her eyes that she could not 
see the pail; but in spite of all she was 
sick and nearly fainted. Then Deborah 
told her to get up and go to knitting. 
'Here is some salt water to wash thee in; 
It 'wiU make thee tough and well.'" 

Again ; " Mary John laughed and said, 
'When were you baptized?' 

" 'Perhaps I wasn't, but Aunt Deborah 
has ducked my head in water ever since 
I can remember for not getting my steiit 
done and for being a ntiughty girl.' 

" 'It don't mean that way at all,' she 
said. 'A minister tips them backward 
into the water.' 

" 'Yes, Aunt Deborah took Capt. John's 
bathing tub, a great long tin one, big 
encugh for me to lay down in, and had 
it filled with water and made me get in 
and lay on my back. I was afraid to, 
and she pushed me down under the water, 
and when she pulled me up I didn't know 
nothing. Aunt Hannah asked me what 
she done that for. I told her I did not 
get my stent done .on Daniel's stockings 
and I wished all the men had to go bare- 
foot. So I don't Icaow whether I have 
been baptized or not, as Aunt Deborah 
sits in a higher seat than Joseph Smith, 
and he is a minister.'" 

Over and over such tales recur— of per- 
petual whippings with shingles on hands 
and feet tUl the child could not step, 
once because she was found fondling a 
gauze kerchief of her motlier's, when she 
had slipped from her bed, of feeding her 
with cayenne, of keeping her a day with- 
out food and setting her impossible tasks 



whoso non-completion met with punish- 
ment ; of specious promise,s and fair talk 
"before folks" and vengeance dire after- 
ward. \ 

The naivete of the book, however, is 
often mirth-provoidng, as m. this state- 
ment: "Lydla Haynes, her friend Huldah 
axid others watched her lasit moments, and 
they were shocked to hear her last words : 
'Have I always given them children 
enough to eat?' Friends for ditt'erent 
motives came to the funeiral of this noted 
woman ; some to whom she had been vei-y 
kind felt sorry to see her laid away in 
the ground ; they would no more receive 
favors at her expense. One friend prayed 
over her open grave with great earnest- 
ness, and enjoyed one thousand doUars 
of the dead woman's possessions, also, 
most of her clothing. Her kind niece, 
Olive, received a much worn bed quUt. 
Once more are childish voices heaird ian! 
this country home, but how different ! A 
kind father is the l'aith,ful David Kidder, 
and the gentle Lois is an affectionate 
mother. The great holes in the chimney 
will never hold their little boys." 

Da^ad Kidder, in reality Daniel Header, 
worked for Deborah Jenks in the last 
years of her lite ; "he was 20 years of age 
when he came to the farm, and worked 
there for ten y^rs ; to him the farm was 
left, and it is his children who occupy the 
old place now. The Headers disclaim the 
idea of extreme cruelty on Deborah's part, 
and say that Ann was a fractious child, 
who required severe treatment. It may be 
the truth lies, as it is wont to do, midway 
between extremes. A parting thrust, 
perhaps unconscious, lies in one of the 
closing paragraphs, as the author pictures 
hei'self revisiting the scenes of her child- 
hood. 

" Again she travels the sandy, lonesome 
road, now gladdened with dwellings. She 
stands beside the grave of Deborah ; the 
trees are now large and shadow her rest- 
ing place. She tui-ns away with a sigh of 
relief that Deborah now rests from her 
labors, and her works do follow her." 

Two or thi'ee mUes west from here, 
over the North Smithfleld Une. is a house 
still more interesting in itself. 

If the traveller, journeying by road 



186 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



from Providence to Woonsocket, turn o£E 
the main highway to the left, just about 
Tvhore Lincoln ceases and North Smith- 
field begins, he will find the road grad- 
ually begin to ascend the long, long in- 
cline of Saj'les HUl. Fine loreets, oak, 
birch and chestnut border the silent road- 
way, where no man has yet built, and 
where, on snow di-ifts Ilngei-ing under the 
mossy walls, are the tracks of quail, 



ture to catch the eye, Its Interior more 
than fulfills Its promise of qualntness. A 
square, sloping-i-oofod central part, with 
a wee Mtchen ell at either end, and all 
three boasting a separate front door and 
huge chimney of theli- own ; but the west- 
em ell is unique. Scarcely anything but 
a huge chimney Is It, of massive stone 
foundation, tapering gradually upward and 
capped by a four-cornered finish of brick; 




— iii> '•>*^'''"* -■*»■• ■ 



%1V 



l\llli- 



THE KOYAIi HOUSE. 



rabbit and fox. Up and up, till at the 
far away summit in a clearing to the 
left one sees two empty and abandoned 
homesteads, and across the way to the 
right, its entrance way emphasized by an 
aged ash tree, huge of bough and crumb- 
ling to decay, the quaint and curious old 
Sayles homestead, known far and wide 
as the "royal house," since the ancestors 
of the present occupying generation lived 
and died under the King. 

Sufficiently odd in Its outer archltec- 



the room around the chimney ingenuously 
reveaJg its substiiictiu'e to the most casual 
eye, for the massive beams and rafters 
and the huge chimney itself rise above 
the mammoth fireplace without the 
slightest attempt at concealment, and one 
can step inside the ample hearth at any 
time and gazing upward \'iew the heavens 
overhead. Nine feet wide is this colossal 
fireplace, its only mantel a huge beam 16 
inches square, laid, solidly across, and 
blackened and grayed Into exquisite tints 



LINCOLN AND NORTH SMITHFIELD. 



187 



tlirougli tine smoke of long years. Two 
ranges grace tMs otlierwise unused fire- 
place, and tbree could be easily accom- 
modated side by side -within Its ample 
recesses. The tiny panes of glass In the 
windows, the primitive latches of the 
doors, the break-neck stairway that winds 
about the central chlnmey, and, above 
aU, the dining room door, are deUghtliilly 
primitive. For this floor, that of the 
front room in the central part, Instead of 
adhering to the conventional horizontal 
line common to doors, sweeps down from 
the centre in a graceful parabola, so that 
to gain the centre from the pantry, for 
Instance, one makes an ascent of two 
decided climbing steps. No trace of ir- 
regular warping Is there ta these broad, 
hard pine boards of which the floor Is 
laid, and the present occupants are of 
opinion that the arched floor was inten- 
tional, lor some reason now never to be 
known, whether for ease iii mopping, 
sweeping or as a primitive toboggan lor 
the small fry. Passing through the cen- 
tral house by way of the pantry, where 
one prays as he views the old china, in 
the iwake of the unsuspecting hostess, 
" Lord, keep my hands from plcldng and 
sttaaUng," he emerges into the second 
Mtchen ell, a room bright with the sun- 
light through its tiny panes, gold and 
white wall paper, and the cheer of im- 
maculate and spotless housekeeping, and 
with a guaintnesB of shape that one dis- 
covers presently Is due to the fact that 
this chijuney is built cornerwise across 
one end of the ropni. A tall old clock 
ticks solemnly in another corner, splint- 
bottom, straight-back chairs stand all 
about the cosy room, and one breaks the 
10th commandment again. Overhead, 
pendeiit from the low celling, are many 
huge iron hooks, now thriftily utilized as 
framework for an aerial clothes horse, 
primaiily to hang the old flintlock guns 
across, in the troublous times of Indian 
invasion an!d when the tracks on the 
snow were of less Innocent animals than 
fox and rabbit. 

How old Is the old house? Alas, no- 
body livmg knows. And as lor tlie 
kitchen floor, Mr. Ben. Mathewson, who 
lives here, says he remembers to have 



heard Welcome Sayles declare at the age 
of 85 that it was always so as far back as 
he could remember, and that his father 
also" could remember only the sloping 
floor In his day. This much is Imown 
about the house : Its first occupancy by 
the Sayles's was in 1720, when a grand- 
son of Koger Williams and his bride took 
possession; and even then it was an old 
house. Its walls are not plastered, even 
at this late day ; everything has been re- 
•Ugiously preserved as nearly as possible 
as ta the olden time, though wall paper 
covers the laths and keeps out the cold. 
Overhead, in the sloping floored rooms, is 
the huge centre beam, stUl called the 
" summer," as old New Englanders named 
it- 
Here, on the bracing and breeze-swept 
heights of Sayles's HUl, are said to have 
originated the whole Sayles lamUy far 
and wide through the Union. The first 
John Sayles came to this country In 
1650, and tradition has it that, being a 
Bihipmaster, he came in his own sMp. At 
any rate, he arrived by some means or 
other, and married Mary, the eldest 
daughter of Roger Williams. His son 
John also lived on Sayles's HUl, farther 
over ,lts brow ; he was the father of three 
beys, John, Richard and WUiiam, and it 
was Richard who, on Thanlcsgivlng Day 
of 1720, brought his bride to her domain 
in the old " royal house. " Five genera- 
tions have lived. and died there, Mr. and 
Miss Mathewson b^ng children of a 
younger daughter of the filth generation. 
The first resident Sayles was the first 
Town Clerk of Smlthfleld. Descendants of 
this old family are the iPascoag Sayle&'s, 
William R. Sayles of Pawtucket, W. F. 
and F. C. Sayles of the SaylesvUle Bleach- 
ery, and more than one new Western 
town bears the name Saylesville in lov- 
ing remembrance of the old ancestral 
home. 

A wide view over the hilly Cumberland 
forests, the Smlthfleld and Lincoln wastes, 
the distant suburbs of Woonsocket and the 
crowding villages of the beautiful Black- 
stone Valley one gets from the sloping 
meadows that rise still higher about the 
old house. Over the way and up a little 
rise is the old family burying ground, with 



18S 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



stones ancient and modern. Here the 
last dauglit<>r of the race lingered lo^•1ngly 
and ■n'l.stl'iilly as she led her guests 
about, and spoke the words of loyal 
devotion to her old home that one could 
but feel amid all these mementoes of 
bygone aneesiors, fby the quaint old 
fireside lull of bygone memories, and In 
the sUent, crumbling graveyai-d where lie 
one's nearest iind dearest. 

Such as these are the tme New Eng- 
land homes, gi'owiug daily fewer under 
the combined destructiveness of time, cU- 
mate and progressive! ideas. It is worth 
something to have merely entered one, 
and breathed, even for a time, its ancient 
and homelUve spiiit. 

But Nortli Smlthlield was to reveal to 
us a vastly ditlerent phase of life in its 
more remote and wooded wilderness. 



2 A CERTAIN fur dealer of. Pi-o\'idence 
^4^ who has, of coxirse, frequent deal- 
y ings with many Rhode Island 

ta-appei-s, once remarked witJi a 
retrospective smile, " There's an old fel- 
low named Owen Dixon that's quite a 
character, If you could only find him. 
He's trapped all over the State as long 
as I can remember, and I believe he Uvea 
somewhere In the North- Smlthfleld woods 
—I don't know just where." 

Neither, It transpired, did any one else 
In that line to whom queries were put; 
month after month tliis tempting ignis 
fatuus of a trapper seemed to dance al- 
luringly before, receding as the searchers 
advanced. Now and then one had heard 
of Owen Dixon, or of a Smithfield trapper, 
but the "just where" was still an un- 
known quantity. That it Is no longer 
so is a matter of gi-eat complacency in 
tbe minds of bis exploring expedition, 
who may be designated as the hunter and 
the guileless one. The hunter was to 
serve as the " open sesame" to the trap- 
per's heart by a common bond of Interest ; 
the guileless one was to remain innocents 
ly in the background, with eyes and ears 
well open and camera in hand. 

Equipped for a day's tramp, If neerl- 
I'u', the searclieis took a morning t.ain 
up tlie Si-rlnstield road, intending tj 



alight at Field's Station, for their moat 
positive authority believed he had some 
time seen the ignis fatuus hovering about 
that spot, and at any rate, some of the 
residents there might l^now something 
about him. This was a douljtlul spur, 
but fortune favors the brave. The genial 
conductor warmed to tlie cause, and pres- 
ently returned beaming from a quest in 
the smoMng car with the welcome Intel- 
ligence that a brakeman not only Imew 
Owen Dixon by sight, but was also con- 
fident that his habit was to take and 
leave trains at Tarkiln. With TarkUn 
prospective then, and Field's discarded. 
there was mental freedom to gaze uuon 
the narrowing Woonasquatucket valley, 
with Its crowding line of old-fashioned 
factoi'y callages : Lymansville, Allendale, 
Centredale. Granite-ville— the brakeman 
rang constant changes on the dales and 
villes at the mile-apart stations, tlU 
Georgiaville, most populous of all, 
called out most of the few passengers, 
and the train sped on to Stillwater and 
the reaches of Its spreading reservoir. 
Nearly every little village has its gambrel- 
roofed factory cottages, nearly every one 
the highway leading oS across the reser- 
voir and dam. Allendale lay most pic- 
turesquely of all, and had a quaint little 
gem of a stucco ch\irfh on a wooded rise. 
From Stillwater up, the stations lessened, 
ceased to be the bome of Industries, and 
dwindled to mere sht'ds beside llie rail- 
road, with a swinging sign overhead, and 
stats running around tlie three sheltered 
sides within. Field's Station announced 
itself by the long, low-roofed building 
wliich was once the most flourishing pig- 
gei-y of the State, but with some of the 
business now transferred to Smithfield. 
Far oil' to the wooded east the conductor 
pointed out the classic spot where Lan- 
non and Ashton once met In combat. 
The snow lay deeper as the train sped 
up the river valley, the pine woods 
thickened, brooks widened Into broad 
marshes and the habitations of man grew 
few and far between. Overhead the 
crows circled, and one could see the 
forests bowing before the breath of the 
northwest wind. Tarkiln dawned mod- 
estly In view at length— a scant dozen 



LINCOLN AND NORTH SMITEFIELD. 



189 



houses clustered round an abandoned 
mill and a tiny station all by itself on 
the "woods' edge. Did tlie station mas- 
ter IcnoAv Owen Dixon % He did. (In- 
tense joy.) Could lie tell -where he 
lived? He could. (Breathless anticipa- 
tion.) Turn up that road through the 
■woods— he lived in the first house to the 
left. (PJntire collapse, and disappointed 
cries of "Does he live in a house?" to the 
station agent's vast perplexity.) But 
that the trail was not a false one, even 
though it ended in a hotise, was some- 
thing, and the explorers pressed on, over 
crusted snow ankle deep, though a kindly 
thaw had laid Providence outskirts well- 



recent wearers, and spirits revived. He 
did not live here, then, after all. The 
hunter advanced and rapped, a string 
lifted the latch, and a stalwart, elderly 
six-footer stood within, while about him 
swarmed a band of infants of tender age, 
their ablutions apparently in a state of 
suspense. "Can you tell me where Owen 
Dixon lives'?" cheerfully inquired the 
hunter. 

"That's my name," responded the host. 
With commendable presence of mind the 
hunter tncLulred, after a perceptible start, 
"You are a trapper, I believe. Have you 
any furs on hand just now?" 

Mr. Dixon had not, but bade them 




THE TKAI'PER'S HUT. 



nigh bare two days before. The breezy 
North Smithfleld hills have a vastly dif- 
ferent temperature from that about the 
bay, and it is the portion of the State 
most resorted to by anvalids of con- 
sumptive tendency. That it was de- 
cidedly cooler than at home was a fact 
quickly discoverable, and it was with 
a shudder that tlie travellers hastened 
over a roaring icy trout brook that 
crossed the road and plunged babbling 
into the forest. The first house on the 
left was a small, white, out-of-repair 
structure standing almost directly on the 
road; a wash waving on the line indi- 
cated a goodly number of smaU fry as 



enter, and engaged the hunter at once In 
affable conversation on the subject of 
skins, while the guileless one executed 
automatic smiles lor the lesser infants, 
and calculated /with sinking heart the 
chances of getting an article out of this 
material. But what wei'e these welcome 
words the trapper was presently uttering? 
" Yes, I've got a hut two and a half miles 
or so fi'om here in the woods ; just come 
down from there to see my darter." 

"Oh, may we go and see it?" cried the 
guileless one. " We should so much like 
to go and see where you live in the 
woods 1 " 

"Why, yes," replied the trapper with a 



190 



PLEASANT PLACES IN BEODE ISLAND. 



Blow smile. " If you want to. It's 
awful goln', though. Worst walldn' of 
the hull winter." As though this mat- 
tered! "I'm jest goiu' back," resuinecL 
Mr. Dixon, getting Into his coat, his hat 
having been all the while donned. "Lucky 
I be — guess you couldn't never find the 
way there alone." 

The event proved it lucky Indeed, for 
in that wild forest of pine, oak and 
chestnut, with its dozen of triclding 
brooks, its hundred hills and hollows. 
Its marshes and its pitfalls, one might 
hunt the longest day through as vainly 
as for a needle in a hay stack, for the 
hidden hut of the man who tramped 
staunchly and unhesitatingly ahead, 
threading his way through the thickets, 
making detours for broolc beds, skirting 
the highest hillsides and striding across 
the frozen marshes, while his followers, 
slipping over the crtist, stumbling in the 
frozen footprints, breaking through the 
snow softened by sunshine, and now and 
then plunging more than overshoe deep 
Into some hollow deep with ice water, 
felt doubly sure that it was indeed the 
worst going of the whole winter. There 
was exhilaration, though. In the high, 
bracing air, in tlie sootliing forest odors, 
In the rushing sweep of the leaping 
brown trout brooks, the "\lvid green of 
the snow-freshened moss on the black, 
rotten stumps, and even in the vigorous 
buffetings of the northwest wind on some 
breezy rise. Here by the brook was a 
mlrik track; there a partridge had run, 
and a fox track lay beside the Invisible 
pathway for some distance. 

"I had an otter trap stole out of that 
culvert," shouted back Mr. Dixon 
Jovially from his commanding eminence, 
as he toiled ahead up a roclrf rise. " An 
otter travels down this brook everj' 
spring, and I'll git him yet." 

" There seem to 'be mink tracks along 
here, too," observed the hunter. 

"Yeup. There's a place up the brook 
where mink's been running. I set a rab- 
bit's head bait for 'em, an' caught three 
a runnln'. Mink's going to be high next 
season. " If 'twant for this plaguey 
snow a man might make something this 
■winter. I ain't doln' anything now— 



traps all froze up. I've got a hundred 
steel traps set, too, here and there, and 
deadfalls all over the country." 

" Whereabouts have you trapped most, 
Mr. Dixon?" queried the guileless one. 

" Oh, all over the State, pretty much, 
though mostly In the northern town- 
ships. I was born near here In Smith- 
field, but I lived quite a spell In East- 
bury, and trapped round a lot o' them 
Connecticut towns." 

Down the wind came a long, high, 
musical bell note. " Boo-o-o-o-o-oo I" 
Another chimed in, not a hair's breadth 
lower. "Boo-o-oooo I" Is there a hunter 
liAing whose heart does not -leap to the 
cry of hounds gi^'lng tongue on the 
trail ? " Guess Jake and Buck have got 
Into onr trail," remarked Sir. DLxon. 
'• You can't get them two old hounds of 
mine to look at a rabbit track. Fox 
and raccoon is all the scent they'll 
notice." The bell tones gi-ew clearer, 
nearer, the underbrush craclded, and 
the two dogs, with noses to earth, 
came plimging through the crusted snow 
by the brook border, and flung them- 
selves with boisterous rejoicing upon the 
trapper, gun and all. 

" I've seen thirty-four foxes before that 
hound," continued Mr. Dixon, Indicating 
the younger. "He's a fast one. You 
see how thin the other one is ? Well, 
they hunt together, and Buck's ]ust run 
him to death. He wears his flesh 
all off trying to kp,?p up with Buck." 

"Are foxes plenty about here?" 

"Well, fairly, though nothing to wliat 
they was. I figure I've killed 148 foxes 
In the Rhode Island woods, first and last." 

On and on marched the trapper and his 
augmented band of followers in Indian 
file through the faint traU, now and then 
descending into marsh or ravine, but 
mainly climbing, until the hunter, sud- 
denly turning to the next in rank, sUent- 
ly raised his hand with the air of a Bal- 
boa discovering the Paciflc, toward the 
pilgrims' Mecca. 

On a bare round hillock stood the hut, 
wind-swept and breezy, rising roundly 
from a silent cedar swamp, and this in 
turn shut in by the wooded hUls of the 
sighing pine forest. BuUt some years 



LINCOLN AND NOBTH SMITHFIELD. 



191 



ago, ■when a peripatetic steam saw mUl oc- 
cupied the shorn hUl, it was diverted to 
Its domestic tise hy Mr. Dixon some four 
years ago. A rough, structure some 12 
feet square, a section of stove pipe pro- 
truding through its roof as chimney, one 
email window facing south and another 
north, and Its front entry opening from 
the east, and adorned with skunk sldns, 
It stood on the rising hillock unsheltered 
from the four wild winds of heaven, ex- 
cept toy a high banking on the more ex- 
posed quarters to keep the structure from 
rocking too wildly in the north wind's 
grasp. 'Hhe sole outer decorations were 
a saw horse and a rusty stove, which 
latter was sometimes pressed Inco sum- 
mer Service as a camp fire. A wee square 
of comparatively level gTound, having an 
air somewhat less rampantly wild than 
Its STirroundings, Mr. Dixon indicated 
pridefully as the garden, and remarked 
that he had raised two crops of potatoes 
last season. He produced a key and 
flung the one door open for his guests to 
enter. 

"And do you keep house here all by 
yourself, Mr. Dixon?" asked the guile- 
less one, entering the square fireless 
room flooded with sunshine. 

" Well, no ; I've got a wife round here 
somewheres— guess she's gone down to 
Tarldln. Set down, won't yel" 

A Mrs. Dixon, forsooth ; this was In- 
deed a bitter blow, and pipped in the 
bud many pleasing anticipations as to 
origtaal recipes and other domestic notes 
masculine. But its pangs were as- 
Buaged as the twain gazed with interest 
about this primitive abode. Rough was 
Its floor, rougher its waUs, its cracks 
tugenlously suppressed under stretching 
boards here and there, no doubt to be 
levied upon sometime for their original 
use. The furniture consisted of two old- 
fashioned four-poster beds, also neat- 
ly mended with a skunk stretcher, a 
wide and a narrow one, on either side 
the room, and the narrow one eco- 
nomically pressed Into service as the 
preparatory step to mounting a ladder 
that led Into unexplored upper regions. 
The single downstairs room, however, 
held most of the simple Lares and Penates. 



and boasted also three chairs, a table, 
and an open cupboard, where the modest 
display of stone china, tm and pewter 
showed the unworldly aspirations of these 
forest denizens. Under the lowest shelf 
were a barrel of flour— a flour barrel, 
rather— a meal keg, vinegar and molasses 
jugs, and another barrel held invisible 
contents, afterwards judged to be apples, 
when a sprightly young grandson took a 
.header therein and emerged with a sample 
of that fruit triumphantly impaled upon 
a jack knife. On a swing shelf over- 
head was a piece of salt pork. A Par- 
mer's Almanac represented the lltera- 
tui'e, but Mr. Dixon didn't tliinlv much 
of it as a true prophet nowadays, he said 
later. 




THE NORTH SMTTHPIELD TRAPPER. 

"I'll have a )fire for ye In no time," 
announced Mr. Dixon, seizing a hatchet 
and departing for the forest, whence he 
presently returned with several sections 
of young birch trees. His guests, mean- 
while, scrutinized the various mural deco- 
rations, consisting of many newspaper 
cuts, then* sombre hues enlivened by an 
occasional gaudy lithograph, a fox terrier 
In pasteboard, a tissue paper lady, clothed 
In raiment of gorgeous hue— a concession, 
perhaps, to a feminine weakness for sur- 
veying fine apparel, which found small 
gratification In this far-reaching forest— 
and the whole interspersed with the naU- 
hung raiment of the occupants. In artless 
but effective draping, while boots and 



192 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



shoes ■were thriftily hung up aloft. Every- 
thing "WHS put tidily in place, though 
more than one article evinced the paucity 
of the water supply, and the truth of the 
fact that a woman couldn't worlv much 
■when she wan't feeUug smart, as Mrs. 
Dixon, "Who appeared later, remarked. 

The hunter espied a fiddle bow poised 
aloft. "Do you play?" he asked. 

" Oh, yes. I've played more'n forty 
year," said the trapper, applying a match. 
"Used to play down to Buttonwoods 
twenty-five years ago. Played for the 
Howard races and the fat woman. Used 
to sit in the door and fiddle, it didn't 
matter much what, jest to git the folks 
in." 

" Give us a tune," requested the hun- 
ter. Nothing loth, the trapper seated 
himself on the bed, tuned his festive 
viohn, whUe columns of smoke rose from 
the protesting stove, and sawed a spright- 
ly air, waving his bow deprecatingly at 
the murmured applause, and exclaiming, 
" Well, they say it talies a fool to maJce 
a fire, but I donno but mine's gone out 
■whUe I been fiddling here." 

" Mr. Dixon," now said the guileless 
one, " I should very much like to have 
a picture of your little hut, and of you 
also. Do you mind if I talce one?" 

"Land, no," replied Mr. Dixon, •with 
alacrity. " Is that yoiu- Instrument you 
got ■with you? How do you want me to 
look ?" 

The " instrument" was focussed, the 
shutter snapped, the hermit immortal- 
ized, the hunter afterward reporting to 
the absorbed operator tliat the various 
play of expression and pose on the part 
of the sitter, as various happy ideas on 
the subject struck him, were diverting 
In the extreme. Returning to the liouse, 
the fire was now found to be crackling 
merrily, the two hounds basking beside 
It. and a gray and white cat ciu'led into 
a circle and standing on her head In 
sound slumber on the bed. 

" I am afraid your fire is going to make 
you out a fool, after all, Mr. Dixon," 
remarked the guileless one. 

"Wall, 'twon't be fur off the truth If 
It dops," hilariously shouted the trap- 



per, casting on more fuel. " Hallo, here 
Comes my wile now. Thought she'd git 
round before long to see who'd come. 
News travels fast in these parts." 

An apprehensive imd startled loolc 
passed, over Mrs. Dixon's face as she 
entered breathlessly, and beheld two 
strangers in place of the "folks" she had 
doubtless fondly Imagined. Her manner 
and look were those of one to whom wild- 
wood life was not, as to her husband, 
an unmixed joy. She told the guileless 
one later, somewhat wistfully, as she 
cast a hasty glance across the room, that 
it was " kind o' lonesome, sometimes, 
and they went to bed as early as 7, gen- 
erally." 

Life was not an amusing thing to her; 
she had th > air of one wlio rarely smiled, 
and then under protest. She had been 
sick, she said ; she always had asthma, 
and getting cold made It worse. She, 
too, was born in Smithfleld. but she 
hadn't been used to living that way ; 
she'd always lived more among folks. 
Yes, she got do'WTi to the "village when 
she could, but you couldn't in such going. 
Summers they had some company. 
Folks come there to pick swamp huckle- 
berries. Lots of them grew round there. 
These bits of information were sandwiched 
in, in an undertone, between the trapping 
talk of the masculine element. All about 
muskrat, mink, skunk and otter they 
talked. They lamented the rarer grow- 
ing otter, and told how Allen Lillibridge 
had just brought a magnificent one up to 
to'wn, five feet long. They discussed 
traps and methods of baiting, and agreed 
that deadfall traps were best for sknnks, 
as they killed instantly, and tUd away 
■with the disagreeable work of Killing them 
hi the trap. They told how they burled 
or immersed the sldn In running water, 
to rid them of the scent, and they smUed 
In a superior manner over the high 
flown titles under which the mephitlc ani- 
mal masquerades on ladles' raiment. 

" The skunlc," mused Mr. Dixon, as 
he relit his pipe with a fragment of 
t-iAisted paper, "Is an Ignorant critter." 
" Well, I don't know about that," returned 
the himter. "I know I found one in a 



LINCOLN AND NOBTR SMITHFIELB. 



193 



■ap of mine tlie other day, and I was 
sing to draw Mm up with a noose, and 
fery time I tossed that noose over his 
3ad, his little paw poked it off quick 
3 a flash. I think I tried it a dozen 
mes over with the same success. It 
lowed considerable intelligence, it 
iemed to m^e." 

Mr. Dixon shook his head. " I've took 
[teen out of the same hole," he said. 
They're an ignorant critter." The in- 
nt grandson, who from time to time 
ad stolen sftealthily aloft, when the 
alogue promised to wane tn interest, 
)W descended radiant and announced, 
I got another I" 

" There's a chip of the old block," 
jclaxed the trapper, with a touch of 
•ide. " He's been settln' flgger 4 mice 
aps up in the garret." 

From skunk to mink the topic now 
iphoniously glided. North Smithfleld 
Ink were darker than those caught by 
It water— he'd got a good manj"^ first and 
st along the Ranldn and Tarkiln brooks 
oh, that made him think; he'd got a 
luple of trout up there, too, weighed 
TO pounds apiece, and, as a general 
ling, about half the mink caught In a 
ason's course would be found dead and 
ilf alive. Trap hedges, too, the gutle- 
ss one and Mrs. Dixon heard about— 
)w they were cunningly constructed of 
umps and wood, In a runway down 
the hidden trap in the brook by the 
limal's haunt; for If there are no signs 
mink about the spot where the trap 

set, the bait may hang there untouched 
le season through. Muski-at, Mr. Dixon 
ought, was as good a bait as any. 
here were the traps put? 0)i, out 
70 feet or so from the bank, or In a 
iring, or tn running water that won't 
eeze, anywhere. In March you can 
ace a mink for mUes and miles along 
brook. You just want to be careful 
waylay him at his own door, so to 
leak, and in his own paths. 

"Jew say you'd been taking pictures?" 
tddenly demanded Mrs. Dixon at this 
LDcfure. 

The guileless one nodded assent. 

"Let's see 'em." 

It was explained that they were not 
13 



yet on exhibition in the garish light of 
day, but promises were made that they 
should be promptly forwarded If satis- 
factory, and the conversation proceeded. 

" When I begun to trap— that was in 
war time— mtnk was awful high. 
I had three sktns, and she"— nodding 
towards his wile—" sold them for $30. 
I tnought trapping was about the thing 
to go into, and I've followed it up ever 
shice." 

"And how old are you now, Mr. 
Dixon?" queried the guileless one. 

"I am in my 69th year," resppnded 
Mr. Dixon. " You've seen muskirat houses, 
I suppose?" 

Yes, the hunter had espied and pointed 
one out to his companions from the 
train, on the Woonasquatucket ; or waa 
it called the Stillwater at this end? It 
was assuredly called the Stillwater, for 
Mr. Dtxon declared with much firmness 
that he had never heard of the Woon- 
asquatucket, and didn't know where it 
was. With this error rectified, the In- 
structive conversation went on to the 
structure of muskrat houses, now 
rapidly disappearing from New England, 
soon to be obsolete like the beaver- 
sedge covered and skillfully plastered 
within; even repeated demolitions of ror- 
tions of it do not daunt the cheerful 
little toiler within, who patiently and 
neatly repairs it again. Some pre- 
monition of what the coming winter will 
be has the wise little builder In the eyes 
,of many old trappers, who aver that by 
the height of his aquatic home can be 
judged whether high or low water wlU 
prevaQ, and by its thickness whether the 
winter is to be severe or mUd. Trappers 
often detect his habitat by the presence 
of uptom roots and fl,oating grass upon 
the water, for he feeds on sedge, lUy 
roots, and fresh water clams. "A good 
many shoot muskrat In the spring," said 
Mr. Dixon. "Them that Imow how imi- 
tate his caU, and when he answers 'em, 
down him. Jacques from Greenville— he's 
a great bird hunter— he buys most of my 
furs. He does as well by me as most 
city dealers." 

"Did you ever have any adventures 
tn trapping, Mr. Dtxon— anything ex- 



194 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



citing?" put In the Interrogation pidnt of 
the party. 

-No, 1 donno's I have," mused Mr. 
Dixon. " Had a skunk bile me once. Put 
my hand into the hole and he grabbed and 
bit me to the bone, but I hauled him out 
and kiUed him. Ever get los^ol No, I'd 
be ashamed to get lost in these -woods. 
I know every rod of 'em tlie darkest 
night." 

" Don't any animals come round 
•your hut in the night I" pursued tlie 
thtrster lor knowh^dge. 

"Oh, no; nothln' but foxes and rab- 
bits, and tliey won't hurt you. The 
owls you can hear, too, screeching down 
In the cedar swamp." 

The Infant grandson, who had been 
quietly amusmg himself by excavating a 
wasp's nest and offering the inhabitants 
one by one to the unsuspecting dog, now 
made more frequent headers into the 
apple barrel, and his grandmother looked 
furtively at the clock. It would not do 
to embarrass the genial host and hostess 
by remaining to witness their fmgal 
meal, or cause thorn to suffer too intense 
pangs of hunger by its postponement. 
The guests, therefore, liaving obtained a 
brief sketch of the shortest route to the 
nearest station by cross cuts, made their 
adieux and looked their last upon the 



lonely wood-bound hut, Mrs. Dixon paus- 
ing In an earnest altercation as to 
whether the station lay two or three 
miles away, to say hospitably, " Well, 
call In again, both of you;" and Mr. 
DLxon to call out lustily, " Say, don't 
forget tliem pictures!" and at last, 
tlirough snow and ice and slush, by the 
queer old " Samanthy Evans" place, rock- 
strewn and broolv-bordered, with Its cel- 
lar one huge hollow out of a solid rock- 
by the singing pines and the rushing 
rivulet, past the old '• Yellow Tavern" of 
two centuries fame on the Woonsocket 
road, and down to the tiny little Smith- 
field station, where passengers flagged 
their own trains or were left behind, the 
travellers returned blithely from their 
successful quest. Though the wee sta- 
tion was post office as weU, neither sta- 
tion agent nor postmaster materialized 
before the coming train, and the only 
token of previous occupancy was a glow- 
ing fire, shining redly in the tiny stove. 
Back in the calm shelter of Provi- 
dence, it seemed dreamlike to picture 
again, as the wind of the next blizzard 
howled, the lonely little hut on the for- 
est rise, with tlie winter moon shining 
down on the flitting foxes and rabbits, 
whUe the little owls hooted, from thje 
cedar swamp. 



BURRILLVILLE AND HERRING POND. 



[Central Division of New York and New England Koad terminates at Pascoag, the largest town. 
Harrisville is nearest Herring Pond.] 



BURRILLVILLE is one of our few re- 
mote townsMps wMcti began a 
flourisliing career away back in the 
early years of the century, and has not 
since sunk into innocuous desuetude. 
Forty years ago there were 24 factoiies 
"within its borders, 451 houses and 287 
barns— Ihlnting largely, by the last item, 
of rural population, after all. The same 
curious discrepancy obtains in the town- 
ship to-day. With Pascoag's big machine 
shop and its six woolen mills, and at 
least one mttl attached to every settlement 
that dots the course of its hall dozen baby 
riveiis, it is yet one of the wildest, crag- 
giest, mosit densely wooded territories in 
the State, away from the track of "the 
rivers and railways. There iS' a charm 
even in the sound of its Mils and swamps 
and streams^names bestowed long ago by 
the simple country folk of another gener- 
ation, or in an earlier century yet by the 
Nipmuc and Pascoag tribes, its earhest 
possessors; its woods, the Horsehead, Her- 
ring Pond and Pine, its swamps, the Ce- 
dar, Mehunganup, Maplesap, Reeds and 
Pine ; its ponds, the Wallum, Herring, 
Round and Sucker ; and its rivers, the 
Branch, Pascoag, Clear, Chepachet, Tar- 
klln, Nipmuc, Muddy Brook and Herring 
Pond Brook. Wilder yet are the sugges- 
tions of its Mils— Badger Mountain, Buck 
HDl, Benson's Mountain, Round Top, 
Eagle Peak, Snake HUl, and so on. Larger 
game than rabbits now hunted on Buck 
Hill once roamed these forests, and the 
huge crag that frowns above the little 
hamlet of Oakland is called Snake Hill in 
memory of the clans of rattlesnakes whose 
fastnesses lay along its jutting gray ledges. 
When, In Mehunganup swamp, the two- 
century old cedars were hewn by the 



dozen to supply modern needs, bullets 
were often found imbedded in their hearts, 
perhaps more indicative, in their num- 
bers, of an Indian swamp fight than 
marksmen's missilesi gone astray. In 
1836, Capt. Samuel MTiite, excavating for 
some cause, beneath his woodshed, turned 
up with his sjpade the skeleton of a man 
some eight feet in height, which the old 
settlers pronounced that of an Indian. 
Some traces of tlie old wigwams sltm exist 
here and there, where the Pascoags and 
Mohawks used to .exchange friendly vl^ts, 
and now and then a bundle of arrows 
comes to light among the arrowheads com- 
mon to most of our Rhode Island fields. 

But BurriUviUe's old country folk of the 
present day will relate with more gusto, 
tales of their own ancestors, and dimly 
remembered doings of those dear old de- 
lightful days of the "good old times" that 
will never come again for loyal New Eng- 
landers; they wiH teU you of the feats of 
agiLLty performed by the departed strong 
men like Esek Phetteplace and Otis Wood, 
and how a certain Oapt. Wm. Rhodes, a 
once humble youth who rose to compara- 
tive opulence among his fellows, did, at 
the advanced age of 70, lay out a 30-foot 
length of timber, and " go the length of 
it at three hops," beside various other 
kindred exploits that remind the hearer 
of one of those world-wide Wonderland 
jingles : 

" 'You are old, father William,' the young man 
said — 

'Your locks are besprinkled with white, 
And yet you incessantly stand on your head. 

Do you think, at your age, it Is right?' " 

The natives lived longer In the early 
years of the century than now, the Estens 
being a large family, notable for longevity. 



196 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



90 years being about an average life 
among tliem. 

Some of the old Buri-illvllle school re- 
ports show how painfully education was 
acquired by the country youths, and, 
even in their meagre- outlines, how far 
from covetable a post was that of coun- 
try schoolmaster. A teacher in 1840 re- 
ports the pay to have been $1 50 weekly 
and '"board around." Schools were' held 
variously in dwellings, corn cribs and 
shops, and one flourishing school is re- 
ported from the house of one Welcome 
Sayles, east of Pascoag reservoir, where 
the housewife alwaj's came In for one 
day during the week to bake In the brick 
oven. The school house proper was ii 
one-stoiy house, with seats on three sides 
and an open lireplace ; and WUliam A. 
Mowry, Avho taught in 1847, pictiu-es him- 
self ligui-ing at tlie age of 18, "In cap 
and circular cloak," behind a desk one 
foot wide and IS inches long. Few girls 
studied arithmetic in these early years of 
the town's historj% and it was in 1831 
that Miss Abby Owen inti'oduced grammar 
and geography. The names most fre- 
quently eni-olled among the lists as pupils 
were Lapham, Wood, Clark, Smith, Hari-is, 
Mowry, Steere ; they are the predominat- 
ing names still. 

It was in 1806 that BurrillvUle was 
separated from Glocester by a line run- 
ning east and west, and taking half Its 
territory. The Burrillville people found 
Chepachet too far away to conveniently 
attend town meeting there, and the Hon. 
James BurrUl, Jr., Senator from 1817 to 
1820, had the honor of a namesake in the 
new northern township. Outsldfe the 
liver valleys the country ■was one wild, 
untrodden jungle. When Roger WUllams, 
prospecting for the limits of the Planta- 
tion domains, retui-ned to Providence from 
a quest in this dii-cctlon, he drew the 
line at the Burrillville forests, remarldng 
with a confident naivete amusing in the 
light of later years, that "no one woiild 
ever settle beyond there." The pioneer 
settler of East Burrillville, bearing the 
somewhat prosaic name of John Smith, 
crossing streams by mwms of felled trees, 
where his axe laid them low, called a 



halt In the region of the old Tarkiln saw 
niUl, concluded it to be the most favor- 
able spot along the stream for u future 
si«ttlement, worki^d away in solitude till 
his supply of food gave out, then retui-ned 
for his brother and a few more adven- 
turous pioneers, who made the first homes 
in the section. Deer were abundant, 
and meat plentiful in consequence. Be- 
fore the dams were built the lish came 
up the streams to spawn, returning in the 
fall to the sea; sweet wild grapes grew 
in profusion, as they do to this day in 
the wild region about Wallum pond, and 
maple sap was boiled Into a drink jocu- 
larly known as chocolate, as well as be- 
ing used to sweeten the universal bean 
porridge. 

Along the Branch river, the town's 
largest stream, little settlements sprang 
swiftly, and In 1856, though there was 
no railway in the town, Waterford being 
the nearest station, there were seven fac- 
tories on it. An old-style coach ran to 
Providence and also to Waterford from 
Pascoag, though drivers were apt to re- 
tii-e aft<-r a brief sernce, announcing that 
Burrillville roads were too much for them. 

Even now the traveller would best se- 
lect his time for pleasure driving olT the 
beaten highways ; and let him not be de- 
ceived by a delusive thaw about Provi- 
dence in time of snow ; arriving at Bur- 
rillville he wUl find some of the northern 
cross roads well-nigh impassable with 
drifts, and spring mud lying deep when 
the southern roads are hard and firm. 
Spring is about two weeks later In arriv- 
ing at Burrillville than in making her ad- 
vent along South County shores. Few 
farmers wax opulent without some 
specialty, for the land is poor, the soil 
rocky, and patriotic residents lament bit- 
terly that the Massachusetts State line 
did not run a few mUes farther north 
through the rich and arable lands of 
Douglas. 

One who is abroad with only a beauty 
loving eye and but superficial sympathy 
with farmers' sorrows, finds only enjoy- 
ment, not only in drives about the lonely 
hills and wood-roads, but in the railway 
journey to the township, up the Woonas- 



BURRILLVILLE AND HERRING POND. 



197 



quatucket valley ; factory villages though 
they are, along the southern hall of the 
trip, they are such quaint, sleepy, ■wood- 
bound little Tiamlets, nestling so cosily in 
the lap of the valley, that one is not dis- 
posed to find fault with any of them ; and 
as the train speeds on to the northwest 
and the view broadens, and the white 
pines gi'ow denser, the villages cease, and 
only flag stations announce the "centre" 
lor some sparse farming region. Pascoag 
Is the road's terminus, the most populous 
of all BuiriU-sTlle's ^'lllages, and [with 
more hotels than anything else, apparent- 
ly. Pascoag supports two newspapers, the 
BurTill\alLe Democrat and Pascoag Herald, 
while a third, the Burrillville News- 
Oazette, is published in Harrlsvllle. Un- 
like the factories on our otlier rivers, 
these of the WoonasCLuatucket valley, even 
through Burrillville, are owned by several 
different corporations and individuals, the 
Inmans, Fisks and Sayles having chief 
6way in Pascoag. Every few minutes, as 
one drives along, through the townsliip's 
central section that follows the railway, 
he comes upon the little cluster of cot- 
tages, painted a uniform tint, that belong 
to the mill hard by. Out beyond Pas- 
coag's crowded streets stands what is left 
of the " WTiite Mill," now owned by Mr. 
Fred Arnold and Mr. Perkins. Though 
half the mill was destroyed by fire, busi- 
ness stUl goes briskly on in the remaining 
portion, and the goods are shipped for 
their finishing to Nasonville. Granite^^lle 
has an attractive looking factory, /with 
two imposing towers, and Harrisville's 
mill stands near a pleasant grove, and 
with tlie road crossing so close to the 
foaming dam that the spray flies in one's 
face in crossing, Irish and Prencli opera- 
tives make up most of the employes, 
where English were once predominant ; 
as a consequence the churches are chang- 
ing about, anxi the Episcopal Church at 
Harrlsvllle is now converted into a tem- 
perance hall, while the Catholic and Uni- 
versalist have come to the fore. Across 
the river in Han-isville, the grounds of 
the superintendent and owner He in pleas- 
ant groves, and the road that leads east 
from here to Glendale is one of the fair- 
est in the to^vn. One may meet here the 



mail coach, drawing up with a flourish at 
the little Oakland station, and bearing on 
its side tliis inscrutable legend, " U. S. 
Mail. Newport and Tiverton." 

In Harrlsvllle proper, a neat little 
%allage, there are but few pretentious 
houstes, that of Mr. De Witt Remiagton 
the most attractive and homelike ; in the 
cool and well-kept precincts of the chief 
grocery store some of the garrulous old 
mill hands drop in at the noon hour and 
entertain each other with varied lore till 
the clang of the bell calls them off, then 
the little street is silent again. Says one, 
as the listeners pause here a moment, 
"Yes, Jolinny he vowed he wouldn't 
drink no more water tiU the bluebirds 
come, 'n this morning there was about 
twtsnty on the .band stand, 'n some one 
says, 'Johnny, come up and see the blue- 
birds.' By Greorge, you ought to see Mm 
start!" And the mill bell cuts in upon 
a possible explanation of some strangle 
Lenten sacrifice. 

But there are pleasnnter pastimes in 
Burrill\'ille than following up miU. vil- 
lages, anid it is a vei-y easy thtug to leave 
them all behind. The most popular wild 
wood rendezvous is Herriag Pond, easily 
accessible from all the villages, and the 
local Rocky Point. Here ar,e held most 
of the I township's summer festivities — 
picnics, clambakesi, boating and bathing 
parties, for this small but charming sheet 
of water affords facilities for all. Only 
a mUe or so in a walk across lots from 
Harrlsvllle, and a three or four-mile 
drive by a more roundabout way, It lies 
among sloping pastures and a magnifi- 
cent grove of pine, chestnut and oak at 
its north and favorite end. On thiS 
cross road one passes a little old. black 
house by the roadside, scarcely more 
than a hut; it is the house where Lydia 
Phetteplace murdered her husband some 
thirty years ago— the crowning stroke in 
the tragic family history, which a local 
editorial thus sketches : 

IMIany years ago James Harris and 
wife lived in Herring Pond woods. Harris 
was found dead In a shanty near what is 
now Tarklln station. He had been on 
a protracted debauch, and. the cause of 
his di^ath was plainly evident. He left 



198 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



four cliiUlren, George, Stephen, I-oiiis and 
Lydla. George was killed on the railroad 
near Fox Point, Providence. Stephen 
fell into a coal pit and biiriv_>d both legs 
so that he was a cripple to the daj' of his 
death. Loul;^ ishot himself in the woods 
just above Glendale, placing the muzzle 
of the gun to his breast and pressing the 
tilgger with a forked sticlf. This was in 
1845. Lydia married Stephen Tourtel- 
lott in 183(5, and on July 3, 1837, Ste- 
phen went into a neighbor's barn and 
hung himself with .a leather whip lash. 
lie was discovered, cut down, resusci- 
tated and di'iven away. He went diivctly 
into another neighbor's (Stiophen Bart- 
lelt) baiTi and hung himself with a stake 
chain and ' when discovered was dead. 
His widow (Lydia) married Ziba Phette- 
place in 1838. She lived with him until 
1860, in which year, Phetteplace, who 
was addicted to strong di-ink, came home 
one day, and, after giving his wife a ter- 
rible beating, lay down on the Mtcheai 
floor and went to sleep. He never 
awoke. Lydia, raging under the cruel 
treatment, took a keen, heavy axe, and 
as her i husband lay asleep she struclc 
one, two, fierce blows, and the sharp 
steel, driven by every ounce of power in 
her sinewy arms, sunlc deep into Phette- 
place's bared 'neck, nearly severing his 
h.ead from his body. After the bloody 
deed she dragged the dead body, by the 
feet, across the floor, down the steps, 
through the yard Into the orchard. She 
then went back, cleaned up the house, 
sat down and awaited arrest. It soon 
came, and she was sentenced to imprison- 
ment for file for the crime. She died in 
the Rhode Island Insane Hospital in 
1880. In that same year (1S8G) her son 
Harris, who as a boy had witnessed the 
crime ithat imade him fatherless, left his 
home, which was near wliere his fathor 
had been killed, walked into the woods 
with his gun and shot .himself in almost 
the identical manner and very close to the 
place where his uncle Louis killed himselC 
forty-one years before. 

From hero on, the way leads over a 
pasture road, land terminates at the old 
farm house where Mr. Mosely, 'an Eng- 
lish operative, dwells In the solitude of 



tlie woods and fields. A few weeks ago, 
as oM 'Mr. Mosely sat alone by his eve- 
ning's fire, he was astonished by the 
wholly unlooked-for appearance of a still 
more elderly brotlier, his wife and three 
children, who had willi dllliculty con- 
quered some appalling snow drifts be- 
tween there and the station as they ar- 
rived unannounced and miexpecti'd, from 
England! The two, old men had not met 
since boyhood days, and the family had 
crossed the ocean In hope of better luck 
in America. i 

Another dwelling stands not far from 
Herring Pond— that of Arnold Comstock, 
who caters to the picnic parties In sum- 
mer. Otherwise, the sloping grove that 
runs to the water's edge st«inds in Its 
pristine fairness, and the waves ripple 
against a mars'elaus white sand beach that 
niakles bathing a delight. The lake, only 
a mile or so in extent, lies north and 
south, and as the south wind is summer's 
prevailing one, picknickers may be sure of 
air here in the green woods by the dancing 
lake, if a breeze is stirring anywhere. 
Kegular clambakes are served here, with 
all the salt water accompaniments, and 
down at the south end <i'f the lake Mr. 
Putnam does not confine himself to sum- 
mer patronage, but gets a weekly dinner 
the winter through for the male patrons, 
with an occasional "ladies' day." On a 
bit of an island nut far out from shore 
some ot the BurrUlville youth have con- 
stituted themselves a. sort o'f fresji water 
Squantum Club, built a shanty, and have 
mysterious good times all by themselves. 
Herring Pond is not the only scene of 
summer camps, however ; take the road 
that runs west along tlie shores of the 
Pascoag resei*voir— a wild and romantic 
road, bordered on one side by the masses 
of splintered gray stone of the Pascoa-g 
ledgie, and on the other by the long, 
winding sheet ol' water whoso jutting 
wooded promiintiories and low boundary 
hills make it a gem indeed in its fair set- 
tliig. In the beautiltil gi'Oiit pine gi'ove 
that slopes down to the water at Its 
farthest and wildest bend, the Sayles 
family have founded a delightful summer 
house, and with a few coogenlal fiiends 
camp and keep house here and live de- 



BUREILLVILLE AND HERRING FOND. 



199 



lightful out-door lives the season through. 
Not far from the point lies an islaind. the 
trees of whose slopijig orchard are 
vlsihle stUl from the farthest shores ; it 
was planted years ago by an old man 
named Page, who had this solitary water- 
bound farm all to himself^ amd in conse- 
quence carried matters with a high hand, 
ill-treating Ms stock and starving his cat- 
tle, it Is said, and who was finally re- 
moved to mainland iurisdiction. 



venturesome explorers, climbing along 
the perilous narrow passes of its lace, will 
come upon a cave hidden in the heart of 
the rock, in which small-boy romance of 
to-day loves to revel, and reconstruct 
many a passible tale of the past. Coop- 
er's den is the name this gruesome spot 
is known by. Forger's Cave has an au- 
thentic history of once lawless doings 
within its black recesses. This lies far tO' 
the west, on the banks of Round Pond in 




SAWMH.!, m BURRrLLVIULE WOODS. 



Although the ^migratory steam saw 
mills that pervade the forest have their 
haunt in BurrillvUle, too, it wiU be many 
a long ,year before the wide tracts of 
woodland have disappeared before them ; 
and they add a not ineffective touch, in 
theia* camp accoutrements, to the wild- 
wood pictures one sees along the lonely 
forest drives. 

On the road from Griendale to the 
Stephen Cooper place rises the highest 
ledge of all the region round, and the 



Buck Hill woods ; an underground cavern 
whose entrance, when it was in use, lay 
behind a huge tree with the cavity cov- 
ered by a stone. Here Spanish mUled 
dollars were counterfeited, and the gang 
of forgers "wrought undiscovered for some 
time till one of their number got drunk 
and too freely spent in a neighboring vil- 
lage his bright silver coins of the same 
date. Arrests and a trial followed, but 
the leaders of the gang shrewdly impli- 
cated several of the neighboring citizens 



200 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



and proceedings -were indefinitely stay«d. 
Some of the old i)eople remember a 
singular apparition peculiar to their 
cMldliood days— a mysterious yearly visit- 
ant cloUied .In wine colored vestments, 
■who made Ills "way through the townslilp 
on some strange, f;ir-olI pilgrimage, and 
•who was locally Icno'wn as the " darned 
man." In rain or slilne the bent, shabby 
figure had yearly passed over the quiet 
country byways, as regularly returning 
year after year. Those who learnt his 
history said that his mind liad given way 
under the sliock of finding his love faitli- 
less on Ills maiTlage eve long years before, 
and that the raiment of peculiar hue 
which he so cherished in Its growing shab- 
btness was his wedding outfit. At tlie, 
few houses where he paused he requested 
needle and thread, and finding the proper 
hue, proceeded to patiently and neatly re- 
pair the growing rents of wear and tear- 
hence his sobriquet. Queer local charac- 
ters abounded, too, in the backwoods, and 
do to this day ; liermits, hunters and clan- 
nish tribes of the wilderness, chief of the 
latter ))eing a gi-ogarious company known 
as the Badger Mountain tribe, and whose 
home was on the heights of Eagle Peak. 
A lawless and wildwood-loving life hved 
these outcasts- their family originally the 
Rankins, but a certain WiUiam Inman and 
a hand of Mofflts joining fortunes with 
these, later. Uncertain In their sojourns, 
predatory in their habits, tliey herded to- 
gether in clannish comraderj', now and 



then driving down to the nearest village, | 
a hilarious wagon load, the feminine con- 
tingent powdered and painted to the laatl 
degree. WUllam Inman married the! 
beauty of the tribe, who afterward dledl 
a most miscirabie death. The physlclanj 
fiillcd to attend hor in her illness sayS] 
that her bed was merely of hay covere 
witli feed meal sacks. But the Eadgerl 
Mountain tribe has of late hied Itselfl 
out of BurrUlvllle domains and betaken! 
itself to fresh woods and pastures new. 

Far In the weSt of BurrUlvllle the| 
country lies still fresh and new, and un- 
spoiled as when first from its Maker's j 
hands. Wnllum Pond, with Its white! 
sand beach, its grape jungles and Itaj 
wooded ncrtheni summit looking far away] 
to vague and distant blue western hUls, 
is still the haunt of wild beasts and birds, I 
and unspoiled by touch of man; and in.] 
these regions lies still the densest and] 
most primeval forest region of our State. 
Even on many of the old countiy roads] 
one may journey mUe after mile and seal 
only the sleepy old farmhouses, lying! 
comfortably down grassy lanes, and meet I 
only strolling and isolated types of the j 
old-fashioned New England civilization. 
Here, among the many dancing brown I 
brooks, and along the upper reaches ol 
Clear river flowing fresh and undefiled 
from the wonderful crystalline waters of 
WalJum Pond, the lover of upland and 
forest may feel that he is In truth "naarj 
to nature's heart." 



LiriE ROCK. 



[Worcester Kailroad, 9 miles from Providence. Carriages from Asliton or Berkeley, one mile.] , 



"LIME ROCK.' 



H'^ ' ^^i^^-j^ 



ONLY the long ridge of -w^estern Mils 
wlilcli, t'oHoTvlng the Blactetone 
from north to south, marks the di- 
viding Ime between Ltncoln and Camber- 
land separated ua from a sight of the pic- 
turesque little bit of country whose name 
sends scraps of the gay old dancing tune 
floating into mind ; to whose lively meas- 
ures, the country folk say, used to wax 
nimble the feet of the old Mln-tenders by 
the red" glow of their fierce fires on winter 
nights. Yet it was with the air of pil- 
grims entering a strange land that we, on 
one of our few lair October days, climbed 
the long, brown and russet slopes beyond 
the yellow-grass plains, where cows were 
placidly feeding, and shaped our coursei 
for the quamt old roofs that spasrsely 
^owed among the clustering orchards. Al 
bit of genuine, old-fashioned country set- 
tlement is Lime Rock, rare to find nestled 
among the crowding factory villages of 
modem Rhode Island. Hardly a dwelling 
among the old hospitable farm houses set 
comfortably down amid towering elms and 
fruitful orchards but boasted its enormous 
double chimheys or still more enormousi 
stojgle one, its happy-go-lucky windows oS 
varying sizes to suit the growing members 
of the family, and its quaint door orna- 
ments. The Iron scrapers by the door 
stones," the shmlng knoclters, the worn 
stone steps inserted In terraced walls, the 
turnstiles here and there, the farmer lads, 
lustily singing as they drove barnward 
with loads of golden com, with here and 
there a coveted " red ear" of husking time 



peeping through— all seemed to send our 
fancy roving among pages of those de- 
lightful, prosy old New England novels 
whose heroines are so exceedingly limp 
and useless, and whose heroes so bluster- 
tngly dramatic, but whose, bits of descilp- 
tioUj grudgingly inserted, touch us with 
the same vague and delightful thrUl as 
does the scent of lavender, or the sight of 
a sprig of caraway freshly culleid. For all 
these have power to send us back to our 
earliest church-going days, when we sadJ 
solemnly erect between our e^lders and' 
contemplated our horizontal shining shoes, 
which completed the painful right angle 
which we represented, like an illustrated 
letter L. All this did Lime Rock for us as 
we strolled among Its winding roads ; h&re 
and there a hill-summit giving us a glimpse 
of far and distant heights stretching in 
tender purple mystery, faint and fair in 
the afternoon shadows and sunshine; of 
the sparkle and glow of hundreds of sunlit 
windows and clouds of faint hovering 
smoke over the cities far siouthward— Paw- 
tucket and Providence, and Pall River 
even, with the yellow sunlight strong on 
the great white front of a towering fac- 
tory, easily recognizable to the naked eye. 
Then down again into valleys which are 
yet far above the river level, with new 
and fairer pictures greeting us at every 
turn ; a sloping cornfield, with Its gro- 
tesque com stalk statues, in flutteling 
rank and file, accented by the mellow gold- 
en glow of ruddy pumpkins ; a rushing 
brook crossing the road with a musical 
drop of its hurrying cascade among t^e 
gUstening white limestones ; a group of an- 
cient oaks in a meadow ; a towering rock 
with scarred sides strong In the sunlight, 
and a barberry bush lending Its crimson 
pendants to the cold gray ; a placid pond 



202 



PLEASANT PLACES IN BUOBE ISLAND. 



by the roadside, lying so unniffled in its 
sheltered hod that "we at lii-s't mistake its 
green reflections for solid laiwl, until a 
hovering bird, lighting on the sere ranks 
of bending rushes, ruffles its stall surface 
•witli a dip of flashing -wings in a hasty 
bath ; a quaint old house, with one end 
pretentiously started in stone, and meagre- 
ly finished In wood by ambition-lostag 




Or^ KJTLN TN THE WOODS. 

builders ; and last of all the kilns and the 
quarries, and the pond holes, which are 
Lime Rock's chief attraction. And has no 
artist entered this fair harvest field to 
catch and hold its beauties? Yes, there 
has ; we have found him out, thanks to* 
an extremely conversational old kiln-ten- 
der ; and I dare say he has kept very 
quiet about his find, and does not mean 
to let anyone know whe5-e Lime Rock is, 
that he may paint It all to himself ; but 
he is betrayed, and now all the artists in 
the State are at liberty to enter and pos- 
sess the land. How do you get there? 
why, climb right over the hUl, a>s I said. 
If you start from either Berkeley. Ashton 
or Albion, strangely enough it will still be 
only a few minutes walk. 

There are plenty of cows and massive 
oaks on windy hillsides for Mr. Bannis- 
ter ; there are towering ledges and reflect- 
ing lakes for Eimrich Rem ; there are 
floating clouds and woodland paths for Mr. 
Earlow ; there are plenty of mysterious, 
Incompreliensible and suggestive things, 
all red, yellow and s^ge-green, and full of 
meaning, for om* impressionists of the new 



school, and I daresay a neat little group 
of pumpkins, cabbages and a little drapery 
could be arranged for Mr. Leavltt ; wlille 
as for Mr. Whltaker — well, he has no 
doubt found out for himself before ttils 
what lie lUved best. 

As one ascends the road westward 
through this delightful scenery, the In-- 
creasing quantity of bits of white lime- 
stone along the way, and the faint and 
muffled clang of the pick, show that the 
quarries are being neared. Off to the 
left a white and glistening pile of rock 
and the slowly ascending cloud of blue 
smoke thi-ough roclvy rifts in the top of a 
grassy mound mark the spot where the 
great lime oven is in active operation; 
while to the right there rises suddenly, 
cut sharp and crude against the clear 
skj', an enormous rock pinnacle, whose 
jagged sides and broken angles In cold 
slate-gray and dazzling white the sparse 
and clinging shrubbery makes faint at>- 
tempt to soften. Across the rocky, yawn- 
ing chasm from which this huge rock 
monster rises in lonely grandeur a sec-< 
ond mass towei-s slcyward, but the dazzle 
of its glittering marble-white is broken by 
no soft and tender gi'ay ; crude, un- 




A MODEJRX KILN. 

shadowed and unbearably white It lifts 
Its face westward across the hollow space, 
and the eye turns hastUy away. Far 
down below, at the foot of the sheer 
precipice that lies black in western 
shadow, lies the deep quarry-pool, with 
light puiTs of the breeze that Is blowing 
up aldl't just niffling its c-alm green 



LIME BOCK. 



203 



inrface. And about tlie shores ol tMs 
ibysmal pool, tlie sound of tlieir pro- 
anlty coming faintly up to our ears as 
ihey address tlieir tugging horses, the 
(Torkmen are loading teams with the 
luarried rock, which has been blasted in 
jvery sense of the word, no doubt. 

Among the strange white soil and splin- 
iered rock are growiag sturdy barberry 
jushes, and their scarlet splendor com- 
pletes the rich 'coloring of a picture 
?yhlch, it is safe to say, cannot be equalled 
n the State. But for the most efEective 
slew of this weird scene one must pass 
iround to the north of the great guard- 
ng peak, so that its giant gray shoulder 
may form the foreground for the chasm 
md the silent pond and the black western 
lUl, with the twin white peak and its 
scarlet foliage rising £n. sharp contrast 
icross the sUent space ; here might one 
Inger for hours, Gould he have provided 
dimseK, like thoughtful Ulysses of old, 
with wax for the earsi, to exclude the 
siren-like voices of the quarry laborers, 
who stUl shout and yell and call down 
imprecations on the heads of their hap- 
Less steeds. 

We retrace our steps and, crossiag the 
road, "visit the Mlns, less picturesque than 
of old, when the charm of the glowing 
Ores that Idndled the black night into 
splendor failed to offset the prosaic fact 
bhat they consumed five times the amount 
of fuel that the patent ones m present 
operation require. Here, among the 
i-oofed structures at the base of the great 
oven, where rows of white-dusted barrels 
stretched ofiE into space, we found the 
presiding genius of the place, a com- 
municative old fellow with ;a humorous 
mouth and twinMing eyes, who pounded 
the burnt Ume m. his intervals of flre- 
tendlng, and packed it away Into bar- 
rels, and as he pounded offered us bits 
of information. Twenty-five barrels a 
day, he said, the Mln was turning out on 
an average, each barrel valued at over 
two dollars. But we reflected that tliree 
cords of wood were daily consumed in this 
one great roaring furnace, and we also 
bethought us of the workmen busy across 
the way, and ventured a remark as to 
the doubtful profit of the business. 



" Oh, there's money in It," our inform- 
ant hastily answered. " The Ime busi- 
ness is always good, and there ain't much 
expense besides the fuel. We keep goLag 
here night and day ; night and day them 
fires is never out. The fellow that owns 
this business come here poor when he first 
started out, but, Lord, he's got iudepend- 
ent rich now I" and ,he shook his head 
with pensive envy. 




AT THE TOP OF A KILN. 
"Want to see the fire?" he contuiued.. 
" Come round here and I'll show it to 
you," and he led the way to the gireat 
Iron door, which, being flung open, dls-^ 
closed a mass of glowing cord-wood gleam- 
ing red like fiery sei-pents, and moreover 
sent out such a sudden blast of hot air 
that we were glad to step aside. The 
old Mln-tender, stepping to a pile of tim- 
ber near at hand, began thrusting on log 
after log to the glowing mass, whose 
flames, kindled into new fury, leaped 
wildly out at the open door, and 
faintly fading into blue smoke, went 
soaring and vanishing up the great ex- 
panse of lime-washed chimney, which 
age and smoke had faded to a tender 
gray. And now we thought that this 
was a picture more effective than the 
last,— the mammoth chimney, blackened 
about the open door, the lurid depths of 
leaping fire, the stooping figure of the 
old man as he thrust on fresh logs, and 
the cosy comer in the gloom where a 



204 



PLEASANT PLACES IN RHODE ISLAND. 



great barrel-chair stood Invitingly in the 
•warmth. 

A fire tiiat never perished night and 
day ! It ought to engender salamandcirs, 
and we were about to inquire UT It did 
so, but our conductor was now taking us 
out to view tlie disused and picturesque 
old kilns outside. Fearleas little ferns 
and vines and other tiny growing things— 



tlons of Hawthorne in his wild romance] 
of "Ethan Brand." Into the once yawn- j 
Ing top of a raging tire here one could I 
fancy a man casting himself in sudden 
frenzied despair, and we could picture the ; 
dismay of the old kDn-tender on dlscov- 
ei-lng the bones of a skeleton lying ln[ 
ghastly white outline on the biu'ningj 
mass; but the patent kilns are destructive] 




THB JOINTY ROCK HOLE. 



how they shunned that other too tropical 
lurking pLace I— had climbed Its sides and 
nestled in Its crannies, and a brilliant and 
effective panel was made by a long spray 
of nightshade, whose clusters of translu- 
cent scarlet berries had flung themselves 
across the white background of the open 
oven door. Here was a lain which one 
could fancy peopled by the weird crea- 



te romance. Before a man could slip andj 
wriggle t-hrough the oven door into which 
the logs of wood so blithely glide, he I 
would no doubt, by the preliminary 
scorchlngs and choWngs, have grown] 
heartily sick of his bargain, and chosen I 
some more poetic form of death. " We 
chuck it in at the top," said the klln- 
tonder, blithely interrupting our musings, i 



LIME BOCK. 



205 



Id poke it out at the bottom, you see. 
at's put in to-day won't come out for 
nreek." 

' And how do you know how much to 
e out? How can you tell when it is 
ned enough 1" we queried. 
rhe kiln-tender shook his head with 
sage air horn of experience. " We 
)w," he said. 

Presently. " Lots of company we get 
■e cold evenings, too," he continued, 
ramps now— they like to put up here 
t rate, and if they can put up with 
■ lodgings, why, they're welcome. Can't 
:e much lime away in their pockets. 
In'? well, look round there further 
^^n the road and you'll And some more 
is that ain't going now." Which we 
(ordingly did, much to ,our enjoyment, 
rther up the road, heyond where the 
isent quarry is toeing worked, lies what 
ihance passer would take for a natural 
id; tout it is a worked-out quarry, 
ed up with water, and it adds a charm- 
; feature to the rocky hUls that lie 
)ut it. Only those who knew it in the 
. days, when it was a prosperous 



quarry, yielding a superior quality of 
lime, which seems now to toe exhausted, 
would dream that the tranquil lakelet's 
expanse was tout the surface of a tre- 
mendous chasm, toeside which the quarry 
now in operation sinks into nothingness. 
The suicide within this pond woiHd find 
a deep grave. 

Meanwhile the sun sinks and tlie great 
white pinnacle across tilie way flushes 
from golden to rose red, and then softly 
glides into tender gray and awaits the 
moonlight. The quarry men turn home- 
ward, and the teams coiiu» winding out 
from tdie gathering darkness toelow. 

Only the kUn fires leap up fitfully 
through the gloom as the doors swing 
open an.d the great toUlets of wood are 
flung on ; and toehind the old kUn-tender 
a grotesque shadow, sharp against the 
wlilte-dusted floor, seems In the flickering 
fireUght to dance to the measures of the 
merry old tune : 



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